Power Play (Amanda Byrne Book 1)

by Kimberly Keane

  “No.” Miriam blushed and dropped her gaze to the floor.

  “She thought you’d died,” Sean said.

  “What?!”

  “Yeah,” Ethan said. “Until Sean found you on the cameras, Miriam was convinced you were gone. Sean had to promise her he really found you.”

  “Your signature was gone,” Miriam said, “even the weird one you had after Urd was with you. I couldn’t find a degraded signature either. I checked near Michael and Carol Bradley. You were just . . . gone.”

  “So, a signature can disappear without someone being dead.”

  “Don’t rub it in.”

  “I’m just surprised. You’re usually right.”

  She nodded and smiled. I didn’t return the smile, remembering the most recent time I realized she was right. “I gave the curse to Mr. Bradley.”

  “Good.” She met my eyes and pointed her finger at me. “Don’t you dare.”

  “What?”

  “Feel bad about it. He deserves that and much worse.”

  “I’ll try. Catch me up. How did Drew get involved? He came through the door first, right?”

  “Yes. He said it was the perfect way to break in his reattached arm and leg. You had his name and number in your bag,” she said. “The cops showed up eventually, but they had to follow procedure. Drew and his friends were with us for the entire search—they weren’t limited by the same procedures.”

  I looked at Sean. “Did you use the casino’s camera systems?”

  “Yeah,” Sean said. “They’re all controlled by computers.”

  “How’s their security?”

  “Excellent, as expected, but I don’t register as a worm or virus. I’m too complex an entity for standard antivirus and security systems.”

  “So far,” I said. “Just be careful when you’re out surfing. I don’t want to have to explain to your grandparents why you’re catatonic and then try to track you through computer systems to download you back to where you belong.”

  “I’m too good for that,” Sean said.

  “That’s the attitude that will get you into trouble.” Ah, to be twenty-one again and invincible.

  “No one knows this talent exists.”

  “Yet,” I said. “Your ability to develop excellent security programs is becoming more public. Didn’t Byte magazine just do an article on you?”

  “Well, yes,” Sean said. “But that was just for my current security business, and I could claim trade secrets. There’s nothing to worry about—most people don’t believe psychics exist.”

  “The gods are coming through more frequently. People are going to believe what’s going on eventually. Someone’s going to put two and two together and figure out someone can download themselves, or most of themselves, to a computer. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You’re one to talk,” he said. I had the graciousness to blush.

  “So, you interfaced to the camera systems . . .” I said, steering the conversation back to how they had found me.

  “I interfaced to the computers that run and hold the digital feedback from the cameras,” he said. “It took almost thirty hours, but I tracked you and the guy that grabbed you through the hotel security cameras to the street and into a car. I followed the car using the streetlight cameras and then a camera from a bank. You spent some time in a nursing home facility, then you were taken to a house in the Paradise subdivision. They don’t have cameras in the subdivisions, so I lost you.”

  “That’s where I came in,” Ethan said.

  “Did you use Dillon?” I looked around for the golden retriever. Ethan had the ability to mentally communicate with animals. Dillon was a dog he’d trained to find corpses. When that became too depressing for them both, he’d retrained the dog for search and rescue.

  “No,” Ethan said. “He’s at the hotel. Even though he’s certified, they don’t want him at the hospital.”

  “But how did you track me?” I asked.

  “From the information Sean got, we knew you were abducted. But I couldn’t have Dillon track you to the house without looking suspicious. I didn’t want to risk it. So, I used the wildlife.”

  “Wildlife? In Las Vegas?”

  “You’d be surprised at how much there is. It only took me twenty hours.” Ethan looked at Sean.

  “Yeah, well computers are complicated,” Sean said.

  “And animals’ brains aren’t?”

  I shook my head. “Enough, you two. I don’t want to hear you fight.”

  “We’re not fighting,” they said in unison, and I almost laughed.

  “Besides, I thought you needed a close connection with an animal before you could communicate with it.”

  “It makes it easier, but I don’t need it. I used the rabbits. They’re everywhere here.”

  “Rabbits?”

  “Yup.” He smiled. “I got one to meet me and smell a piece of your clothing. Then I could pick the scent up in ‘rabbit smell’ so I could work with the other rabbits in that subdivision. I kept finding one after another until one was close enough to pick up your scent. Then I used it to track you to the house.”

  “Rabbit smell? What does that mean?”

  “Animals don’t think in words. They use images and scents and feelings and, well, their own noises, but that’s different.”

  “And?”

  “Unlike humans, every animal sees and smells and understands things differently. But one animal’s view of the world will usually work for the whole species, depending on how complex they are.”

  “Once you got my scent the way a rabbit would smell it, you communicated with other rabbits and were able to pass on the idea of my scent. You’re really a telepath, but only with animals.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “You two found me.”

  “Yes,” they said in unison.

  My children. My boys. My babies. Dear gods, they really weren’t my little ones anymore. “Thank you,” I choked out and didn’t cry, really, I didn’t.

  The both glowed with the light orange color of pride.

  “Your turn,” Sean said. “What happened?”

  “What was the appearing-in-Sean’s-kitchen trick? And what’s with the eye and hair?” Ethan said.

  I brought my hand to my face, closed my albino eye, and touched the eyelid. I had forgotten about it.

  “My eye was bleached. And the kitchen thing must have been what Sean called it: astral projection.”

  “Bleached?” Ethan asked.

  “One of the Norns used the Well of Destiny in Asgard to wash away a headache I had, and it permanently bleached my eye and hair.”

  Miriam’s phone rang, and she answered it. She handed the phone to me. “It’s Harry.”

  “Harry?” I said.

  “I called him when the boys were on the plane.”

  “You called him?”

  “Yes.” She blushed again and straightened in her chair. “But I don’t want to sleep with him.”

  “Eww,” Ethan said. “I so didn’t need to hear that.”

  I blushed and tried to pretend Miriam hadn’t said anything. “I thought we were using different PIs.”

  “You were missing. I needed the best.”

  I raised my eyebrow and gave her one of my looks.

  “If someone killed you, I was going to find out who, even if it took me the rest of my life. I needed Harry to get me as close as possible,” she said.

  I smiled at her.

  “Okay, okay. Sometimes you need the best. But be careful. I still don’t trust him.”

  “I will,” I said to Miriam as I put the phone to my ear. “Hi, Harry.”

  “Tell Miriam I heard that,” he said then continued, “Darlin’, if you don’t keep yourself out of trouble, I’m goin’ to start havin’ you followed.”

  “Very funny. What’s up?”

  “Well, as you know, I’m an excellent PI.”

  “Yes, I believe I’ve admitted that.” I paused. “Frequently.” />
  “Mr. Bradley’s lawyers are about to file a civil lawsuit against you.”

  “What? He’s the one who abducted me. What the helheim would he sue me for?”

  “For violating his civil rights.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You cursed him.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “I called a lawyer. He’s on his way to the hospital from LA.”

  “As in Los Angeles? My gods, Harry. Why LA?”

  “He’s an excellent attorney, one who wants to make a name for himself for all of the right reasons. This is the perfect opportunity for him to do just that.”

  “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  “Oh darlin’, you owe me a big one. The lawyer’s takin’ the case pro bono. This is goin’ to be the trial of the century.”

  “I owe you a big one then,” I said. I closed my eyes. The trial of the century. Just what I needed.

  “I have some excellent repayment ideas,” he said and laughed.

  “I owe you a big professional debt,” I said. “I may flirt, but I don’t follow through.”

  “Tease.”

  “Don’t you know it.”

  “Eww,” Ethan said again, and I blushed. I was going to have to do a better job of watching myself when the boys were around.

  “Don’t say anythin’ to anyone until he gets there. That includes your boys and Miriam.”

  “Too late.”

  “Well, don’t share anything else. And tell her to keep her telepathic mind out of yours too.”

  “Tell her that yourself,” I said and handed the phone back to Miriam.

  “Well?” Sean asked.

  “What?” I said.

  “What else happened?”

  “She can’t say anything else,” Miriam said.

  “What? Why?” Ethan looked at Miriam and then at me.

  “We have to wait for her lawyer to get here,” Miriam said.

  “Do you have a lawyer?” Ethan said.

  “I do now.”

  “For what?” Sean said.

  “Michael Bradley is going to sue me for violating his civil rights,” I told them and then shut my mouth, making a zipper motion over it.

  Chapter Twenty

  Gods, it hurt. The copper scent of blood filled my nose and my stomach turned. The sight of blood seeping from deep, clean cuts spaced evenly down each limb was blurry from the swelling around my eyes. My face ached. The rents in my skin stung like paper cuts. Dear gods, everything hurt.

  I leapt from sleep, trying to outrun the dream, and broke the surface of consciousness, filling my lungs with air that smelled of antiseptic, not blood. I checked myself over, feeling my face and looking at each of my limbs. Nothing was amiss. My heart still pounded hard and fast as it had in the dream. It was a dream. A nightmare, but still, only a dream.

  A noise outside my door got my full and immediate attention. I heard footsteps grow fainter as someone moved away from my room. I tried to get out of bed to see who was leaving, but by the time I untangled myself and the IV line from the linens, whoever was outside my room was gone.

  I crawled back into the bed and watched the sun rise over the parking lot. I had no desire to go back to sleep. Gods, I wanted coffee. And I wanted to be home, curled up safely in my bed. I’d settle for just coffee, but it would be some time before the orderlies brought breakfast.

  While I waited, there was something I had to discuss with my guest.

  Urd, I thought.

  Yes?

  Why couldn’t I reach you when we were tied to the bed?

  I believe the drugs in our system were of such a level, it made contact on any plane other than physical impossible. I was with you but unable to communicate.

  Ah. I nodded to myself and got on to what was really bothering me. You and your sisters can see the future, right?

  When futures become probable, we are made aware.

  Then why the helheim didn’t you warn me? And beyond that, why did you risk your own life? I assume you would have perished with me.

  She remained silent.

  You’re not going to answer me, are you?

  Not on this matter.

  I scowled. I felt her nod to acknowledge my anger without responding to it.

  Is anything else coming our way?

  She didn’t answer me. Fine. If there was, maybe I could do something about it next time.

  I’d like to make an alteration to our agreement.

  And what is that alteration?

  I’d like the ability to grant you access to and use of your power.

  Would I be granted that ability as well?

  No. And, I’d be able to determine for how long your power remains. When we don’t need it anymore, you’d no longer have use of it.

  My power must remain with my sisters until we have need of it. And should I be incapable of using it, it will revert to them.

  Agreed, but how can we do that?

  I must speak with my sisters. We will arrange it.

  Agreed.

  The payment will be an additional week’s time with you, my host. And for each instance you return my power to me, our time together extends for two weeks.

  One week for each instance.

  She nodded, and this time the sensation didn’t faze me.

  I didn’t waste any time. I thought about the Well of Destiny at Yggdrasil’s root. The white of the bark against the mahogany brown of mud. I turned.

  Silence. I never realized how loud the ambient noise of my world was until I was greeted by this quiet. I inhaled the scent of wet earth.

  Sisters of Urd

  Of the Norns three,

  I beg you,

  Come to me.

  We wish to alter our bargain made:

  Use of powers for more time in trade.

  Urd’s sisters walked from the mist. This time I stood and awaited them. They still walked too slowly for my liking. I guess when you’ve lived for an eternity, a few minutes of walking happened in the blink of an eye.

  The youngest’s hair hung long and golden to her waist, and her eyes sparkled like sapphires in sunlight. The middle Norn had her long hair pulled into a braid that hung over one shoulder. Her blue eyes had faded, but they weren’t quite the silver hue that Urd’s were.

  “You have returned.” They spoke as one.

  “Yes. Did you not expect me?”

  “The possibility was murky for some time. It recently became more probable, but not certain.”

  “Urd and I have come to an additional arrangement, and she requires your assistance.”

  They nodded, and each wore a crooked smile, as if they already knew the details. Helheim, they probably did. I wondered how quickly these things came to them.

  “Please”—the middle Norn held her hand outward toward a boulder—“sit. Wait.”

  It was a relatively short wait. Surprisingly, or perhaps not so, I wished it were a bit longer. I was tired. Tired of Vegas. Tired of hospitals. Tired of being afraid.

  I have returned, my host.

  Good to hear from you.

  You are no longer angry?

  I’m still angry, but that’s a damn sight better than being afraid.

  Shall we return?

  One moment. I closed my eyes and listened to the quiet for another moment, sighed, and returned to my world. The persistent white noise of building fans and the scent of the cleaning fluid the hospital used on its floors welcomed me back.

  I sat in the bed for a few minutes and watched the second hand sweep its way around the face of the clock. Breakfast was still too far away. I turned on the TV, the great American time waster, but nothing grabbed my attention. I finally gave up waiting and decided to go in search of a cup of hot coffee.

  I made sure my IV line was clear of the bedding and slid carefully to the floor. It was cold beneath my feet, but I didn’t see any slippers. Cold floor or not, I was going to find coffee.

  I padded down the hallway, ro
lling the IV cart along next to me. The nurses’ station was just down the hall. I peered over the countertop and past the computer screens. No one was around. There was a half-empty coffee cup next to one of the keyboards. I looked around for a hidden coffee pot but was not rewarded.

  The elevator down the hall pinged and the doors slid open. An orderly rolled a large metal box out. He was dressed in standard green scrubs, and the lights shone off his bald head. The wheels of the cart squeaked as he pushed it toward the nurses’ station. He set the brake and glanced at me. I didn’t realize he was probably close to seventy until I saw his face—he walked like a much younger man.

  “My nose tells me breakfast has arrived,” I said.

  “Your nose tells you right.” He tipped a nonexistent hat and turned back toward the elevator.

  “Who hands out the food?” I asked him.

  “I’m not sure who’s on duty today,” he called over his shoulder and continued down the hall.

  It didn’t take me long to figure out how to open the door to the metal box. I pulled one of the trays from it. Coffee at last. I balanced the tray in one hand and strolled the IV cart with the other. I didn’t have three hands, so I was glad they’d redesigned the hospital gowns—they no longer hung open in the back. I sighed with relief when I made it back to my room. I pulled the paper top off the coffee mug, smelled it, and took a sip. It was still hot. I’d never had the ambrosia of the Greek gods, but I bet it tasted like coffee.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  An enormous man entered my hospital room; I wondered how much he had to spend on suits to get them to fit over his well-muscled shoulders, chest, and arms. He wore his hair cropped close to his head and enough silver marred the black that I thought he might be over fifty. I counted my blessings that he didn’t wear any cologne; it was my experience that most well-dressed men practically bathed in it.

  “Amanda Byrne?” he asked.

  “You must be my lawyer,” I said. “Harry speaks highly of you.”

  I tugged the hospital gown down and tucked the covers around my hips. I ran my hands through my hair, pulled it out from behind me, and placed it over one shoulder. I was sure I still looked dreadful.

  “Marcus Wesley.” He extended his hand. I took it and was barely able to curl my fingers around it.