Grace started with the pancakes as well and finished her parfait off relatively quickly. She shared one of the pancakes with Veronique, who ate it, but didn’t seem to enjoy it very much.
“It’s too sweet,” she said.
“It’s good for you,” I assured her.
“Why do I feel like you’re lying to me?”
“I’d never do that.”
“Grace?” she asked.
“He’s lying.”
My knife started to bend backward, and as I put it down, Veronique dropped her hand onto mine. “Careful,” she reminded me, to Grace’s laughter.
“Please bend my knife back.”
After we finished eating, we headed back to MoPac, and from there, I let GoogleFace Maps route us to Butler’s house.
The estates in West Austin rivaled some of the mansions I’d seen in Greenwich, Connecticut. No, they didn’t have an Oceanfront view, but they did have helipads, pools, hundreds of private acres, and amazing views of downtown Austin.
Even better, most of them didn’t have gates. You could seriously just drive up to these million-dollar homes and park.
We were in the Porsche SUV – the first time I’d driven in a Porsche, actually. I would have driven our host’s neon green Porsche 911 GT3, but it only fit two people. Still, the SUV handled like a beauty, and it could get going pretty quickly on the highway.
“Anybody want to check it out again?” I asked as we passed Butler’s house. It was tucked away, I’d give it that. And down the winding driveway looked to be another guest house, only adding to the spread of the estate.
The girls didn’t say anything. I glanced at Grace next to me and saw that she was the fullest I’d ever seen her. Her hands on her stomach, she had already switched to the waitress’s haircut, and her eyes were closed as she dealt with her food baby.
I started to laugh. “You doing all right over there?”
Grace yawned. “You woke us up pretty early.”
“My mistake,” I said.
We passed the place again. There weren’t any turrets, and I didn’t see anything in place to protect it from superpowered individuals, so we continued on.
We arrived back at our current mansion at half past seven. Dorian was just where we left her, and I even checked on the family upstairs.
I can’t emphasize enough how creepy Grace’s ability can be. I knocked on the door of the son’s bedroom and was told I could enter. Once I opened the door, I found all four of them sitting on the edge of the bed next to each other, staring at the wall, their eyes white.
It only took me about two seconds to have seen enough of that, so I shut the door and went back downstairs.
Since we had time to kill, I figured I would check on my book’s deets. While Grace and Veronique napped – this time in the same room as Dorian – I pulled out my laptop.
I logged on and saw I was moving books like crack in the 1980s.
Since the release of the second book, I was averaging close to a hundred thousand page reads a day, which for two novellas, was hella good. I almost baited myself into checking reviews, but like I had done in the past, I shied away from doing that.
Better that way.
I started the absolutely terrible task of going through my emails, trying to figure out which ones I should respond to, which ones were spam, and which ones were worse. A good two dozen readers had contacted me about my story, a few wanting photo evidence.
There was another message from David Butler, reminding me that our meeting was at noon. There was also a message from Ken Kim, asking me for an update.
I ignored them.
I still had two throwaway phones, so maybe I’d give Ken a call at some point. Or he would call me because that was what happened last time, and I was still highly suspicious about it.
With several hours to kill, I did what anyone with access to a computer and some free time did.
Nope, not porn.
Rather, I surfed the web aimlessly, watching cat videos, catching up on some of the subreddits I followed, and reading about new video games that were coming out.
Had I known what was going to happen next, I would have at least gotten halfway prepared. I was a fool, and the fact that I didn’t have a plan was about to come back and bite me in the ass.
Chapter Fifteen: Snack Attack
The only thing we needed to do before we left our borrowed mansion was make sure the owners didn’t come looking for their Porsche SUV.
Easy peasy: I had Grace convince the family they never owned the vehicle. We’d be way out of Austin with a new vehicle by the time they unraveled those pieces; it was easier that way.
With Dorian laid out sideways in the cargo area of the Porsche, we headed to Butler’s place.
It was already in the 80s outside, so we would need to park in the shade. I didn’t plan to be there very long, at least for this visit. And I planned to keep the SUV running while we were inside, which was easy to do because there was an option on the keyless entry to cool the vehicle.
We drove around Butler’s neighborhood first, looking for any suspicious vehicles. There weren’t any; everything was hunky-dory. The only person even around was an extra fit white lady jogging up a hill, her skin glistening in the sun.
I wore my bulletproof vest under my Houston Texans jersey, which was heavy and made me look like I’d gained a couple pounds, but I was playing it safe.
After one more check through the hood, we pulled into Butler’s driveway.
Veronique was the first to get out of the SUV.
She surveyed the area, and once she gave us the hand signal, Grace and I got out. The two formed a security perimeter around me as we made our way to the front door, Grace on my right, Veronique on my left.
I’d long since turned in any semblance of masculinity I hoped to gain as part of this trio. It wasn’t like I’d be worth a damn if someone started shooting at us or we were attacked by another super.
I was fine with that; I didn’t mind being the weakest link.
The intercom came on just as we reached the front door.
“Welcome, Gideon Caldwell. Please enter and enjoy the snacks in the kitchen. David Butler will arrive shortly. Estimated time of arrival is three minutes and fifteen seconds.”
It was a very AI voice – Alexis and Siri’s bastard. I exchanged glances with the two superpowereds, got confirmation, and we entered.
After Grace and Veronique checked the foyer, we walked on a nicely polished wooden floor to an open-concept space kitchen that included a dining and living room area separated from the front door by a single wall.
On the bar were some cookies and other, healthier snacks like carrots and ranch dressing. I received an email from David almost immediately, reminding me that he was running a bit late because of a prior meeting and that he’d be here in a couple of minutes.
Hell yes, I was suspicious.
I began looking around, lifting up any flower pot, trinket, or decoration I could get my hands on to see if we were being recorded. I checked behind the 120-inch flat screen TV and moved each book on the bookshelf, just in case it opened to a secret room. Speaking of books, my fuck was this guy into sci-fi harems. Every book he had featured two women and a man on the book cover.
What a played-out trope.
Butler was also definitely a fan of space opera movies, and there was really only one space opera movie big enough to have posters that could cover all his walls. So, I checked the posters too.
“There has to be something,” I said to Veronique.
At that moment, a few of the picture frames and silverware from the kitchen began to rattle.
My heart skipped a beat. I glanced over at Veronique to see that she just was preparing ammunition and exhaled audibly with relief. The pictures fell out as their metal frames lifted into the air and joined the silverware, all of which hovered around her.
“Good call, but don’t kill him until we know for certain he’s trying to kill us.”
Yeah, that sentence sounded strange, but as Jay-Z once said, “This isn’t the life I chose; rather, it’s the life that chose me.”
I always liked that quote.
I moved to the kitchen, still not able to discover anything. Damn, was I paranoid. I had a feeling this was a bad idea to come here. I tried to suppress the feeling, but it kept boiling to the surface.
As she had done before, Grace spoke to me in my head.
Relax, Writer Gideon, we are prepared if anything happens.
I know, I thought back to her, but this is just really freaky. Maybe we should have met the guy somewhere else. I don’t know why we agreed to his demand to meet him here. It’s his turf …
The lock on the back door clicked and we all turned to it, Veronique’s makeshift weapons facing the back door as well.
“Is he locking us in?” I asked.
Still in control of her weapons, Veronique used her powers to unlock the door. We stood there for a minute, all of us poised and ready for something to happen.
Grace was the first to fall.
She was standing near a vent, and as she surveyed the room, she simply … fell.
I glanced at her just as Veronique fell, followed by her projectile weapons, which plinked against the floor as they landed around her body. I then realized I was growing delirious, that everything was starting to blur, that I could taste something in the air.
The television flickered on as I too fell to the floor.
I saw the outline of a man on the screen, speaking to us in a syrupy voice as I lost consciousness.
Chapter Sixteen: Botched Interrogation
I didn’t know where I was. The walls were all black, and there was nowhere to sit but on the ground. My mouth was dry, there wasn’t a smell I could discern in the air, and I felt a migraine taking shape.
I was the only one awake; Grace and Veronique were both passed out next to me.
Taking a deep breath in, I glanced around, trying to get my bearings. My eyes were still slightly blurred. It was a large room, about the size of my garden apartment back in New Haven, but it was very spare.
Are we in some type of workshop? I thought as I looked up at the halogen lamps shining down on me.
My ankles and hands were cuffed together, and as I studied the cuffs I saw they were connected to a long metal chain that went behind my back.
The realization came to me like a knife in the gut: David Butler tricked us, poisoned us. Whoever this guy was, he definitely wasn’t on our side. And I should have seen it coming.
“Grace, wake up,” I said with a scratchy voice. “Please …” I looked down at her lifeless face. “Please, Grace … Please, one of you.”
They looked like they were asleep, both also chained to the wall but lying on their sides. I noticed that Veronique’s chains were made of plastic, but there was still metal in the vicinity. All she had to do was use my cuffs. Poor planning on Butler’s part.
“Let us out of here!” I screamed, going with the panicked victim act.
“Shut the fuck up,” came a voice from outside. The door opened and a large man with a long gray ponytail and a white beard entered.
He had the body of someone who kept relatively healthy, and his white beard almost reminded me of the Dos Equis guy. He was in a button-up shirt and a pair of striped black slacks. The only thing off-putting about his outfit was his black leather boots, big steel-toed numbers with enough grip on the soles to scale a wall.
“David? David Butler?”
“In the flesh,” he said. “Now relax, and don’t say anything until I’m done talking. By the way, it took you damn long enough to get here. No one likes waiting, but I’m glad you finally came.”
His accent wasn’t Texan, but it was definitely American. Maybe he was from the West Coast. I couldn’t tell, and it really didn’t matter, so I cast the random thought aside. My head was still spinning, and seeing the guy filled me with a toxic combo of fear and fury.
Even though I was scared shitless, something came over me; the same sudden boost of confidence that had filled me when I first went toe-to-toe with Angel.
“You’re fucking dead,” I growled. “Once these two are up … I can’t … man, I don’t know what they’re going to do to you. Fucking … dead.”
“Is that so?” He opened up a small, metal case and withdrew a syringe.
“What the hell is that?” I tried to pull my arms away.
“It’s to make sure they don’t wake up,” he said with a laugh. “You three are going to make me a lot of money.”
I had to stall him. I didn’t know how long Grace and Veronique would be out, but I had to try to keep Butler from knocking them out even longer.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked, changing my tone. “What purpose does it serve you to turn us in? That’s what you’re planning to do, right?”
“No, I’m planning to keep you for myself.” He moved to stand before me. “Joking. I know, I know, it’s not a great time to be teasing you. And no, I’m not the type of guy who would hold three people hostage. So, since I’m going to turn you over to them I might as well be honest: this really is for the money. Plain and simple. You see this house?”
House? I glanced at the four corners of the room and made the assumption that we were in his attached guest house.
“It’s not cheap to live here; the property taxes in Austin alone could buy a home in the Midwest. My last discovery is what bought this place. Maintaining it has taken its toll on my bank account.”
Delay him, Writer Gideon.
Grace? I thought.
Please …
But as it turned out, he was so eager to share his story that I didn’t have to encourage much rambling on his part.
“You see, I was one of the software engineers who helped design the systems in their necks. Surely you’ve plugged in?”
I nodded.
“Now,” he said as he waved the syringe, “there’s probably some things you don’t know about a government contract. One of those things is that everyone – and I mean everyone – works on a different piece, so no one knows what happens when all the pieces fit together. I was just working on the database stuff – we’ll call it that because my guess is you aren’t really up-to-date on different types of database software.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I’ve done my research on you, Gideon Caldwell. Self-published writer who worked at a Yale gift shop, huh? A degree from Southern Connecticut? From Rhode Island? All those things check out?”
I nodded. I was experiencing a weird mixture of anger and fear. If I were writing a novel about this, which I technically was, I would find it hard to describe what was going through my mind at that time.
I wanted to lash out at him, but I also realized we were trapped, and that if I wasn’t able to delay him from injecting Grace and Veronique …
“So, you’re selling us back to them?” I blurted out, hoping to keep him talking.
He smirked. “I’m selling them back to the researchers, not you. You’re going to be charged with … hmmm, I don’t know, how many federal crimes? But that’s not really my concern. In fact, I might just let you go. If you beg for it. Yeah, I’ve never seen someone beg, I think that would be kind of interesting. Then again, I might just keep you until they get here.”
I swallowed hard.
I knew there would be no justice for someone like me, and as I considered this – of all fucking times – a quote from Hunter S. Thompson came to me. “Justice is not cheap in this country, and people who insist on it are usually either desperate or possessed by some private determination bordering on monomania.”
Nope, there’d be no justice for my ass if the FCG got me.
“Have you told them yet?” I finally asked.
“Not yet. I have to make sure I have leverage first. I mean, clearly I do, but who’s to say they won’t send more superpowered individuals after me when I tell him I captured these two? I
have to play this smart.”
“How did you find out about us? Did you really read my book?”
He laughed. “You’ve got to be more careful next time. Did you honestly think publishing a book about all this would make a fucking difference? I just stumbled upon it, honest to God, which is what makes this even better.”
“What do you know about Mother?”
“Mother?” He considered that for a moment. “Haven’t heard of her. Why?”
“Never mind.”
“Why are you asking me about Mother? Who is that? What am I missing here?”
I hadn’t written about Mother yet. I wanted more details before I did that, and since I had only seen a picture and pieced together very limited details about her from what Grace and Veronique had told me, I wasn’t ready to talk about her in my series.
“I said, never mind.”
“Never mind, my ass,” he said and grabbed Grace’s arm. “Do you know how long this is going to put her out? Could be days.”
“Don’t do it.”
“Yeah, I’m going to do it, and after I get to the other bitch, you’re next.”
A powerful sense of anger welled up inside me. “You’re going to regret this,” I snarled.
“Oh, I doubt that.”
And almost as if on cue, Dorian Gray stepped into the room.
Chapter Seventeen: She’s with Us
David Butler went from tough to about to shit his pants in a matter of seconds. He stumbled backward, the syringe in his hand his only weapon.
Dorian observed him for a moment, an indecipherable look on her face. Her hair was a mess, and she looked a little wobbly, but she also looked pissed as hell.
Damn, did she look pissed.
The punk rocker placed a finger in her mouth, took it out, and traced a long line in the air. Boiling purple energy formed at her fingertip as she continued the line.
Once it was complete, she brought her hand back and flung it at David Butler.
Cherry Blossom Girls Box Set Page 29
