“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. But I just couldn’t . . . God, how could he do such horrible things?”
I almost said that I wish I knew, but I didn’t ever want to know. How horrible would something have to be to create someone like him? If I knew, I might feel sorry for him. Instead I just said, “I don’t know.”
She sighed.
“How’s Peter?” I said. I’d wondered if the curse caused his illness or if it had persisted after we’d removed the creature.
Her face brightened, and she finally looked me in the eye. “Better. Completely healed for the first time in . . . so long. Thank you.”
“I’m so glad.” I smiled, and she met mine with one of her own. She reached out her hand to me and I took it.
“I thought I was going to lose him.”
“I know.”
“Do you have kids?”
I nodded. “I’ve never had a close call like that. I can’t imagine.”
“Thank you again.”
I squeezed her hand and let go. “You are so very welcome.”
Since Mr. Bradley’s employees and I had concluded our business together, the room cleared quickly. I hadn’t realized the amount of power the room had contained until everyone left. It was almost as if the nets held the power at bay and their demise freed it. The room now felt bigger than it had.
Chapter Thirty-nine
After lunch, we returned to the courthouse, our shoes echoing on the hard floors in the cavernous hallways until we arrived at the carpeted meeting room. We situated ourselves before Mr. Bradley and his lawyer arrived. The air-conditioned room was cold, and it smelled of furniture polish.
Mr. Duvall was a small man. He wasn’t overweight, but he had a softness about him, and the chartreuse color of envy seeped from his pores. Mr. Bradley entered the room behind his lawyer in a wheelchair. One of the back poles of the wheelchair extended upward and held an IV bag. He looked terrible. His skin was pale, and he dabbed at his face with a handkerchief that he coughed into, his breath wet and audible. The blackness that I had seen earlier was apparent, shooting through his aura, falling out of sight and resurfacing. It reached outward, as if it would touch me again, but seemed to lose momentum mere inches from him. Mr. Bradley’s nurse pushed the wheelchair. She was a heavyset woman with close-cropped gray hair, but her most obvious trait was the crimson rage that roiled around her. Mr. Bradley’s emotions had changed from the last time I’d seen them, probably because of his degraded physical condition. The self-doubt had expanded, and the sallow color of fear tinged his ice-blue shield of arrogance.
After introductions were made, I sat down and resolved, as Mr. Wesley had advised, to stay completely silent unless he said otherwise. Daniel still stood behind me, silent and stoic.
“What brings us together?” Mr. Wesley said.
Mr. Bradley nodded at Mr. Duvall.
“We will drop the civil suit against Ms. Byrne if she will agree to remove the curse and her spell from Mr. Bradley,” Mr. Duvall said.
Mr. Wesley looked at me, raising an eyebrow. I shrugged. I had no idea what in helheim he was talking about. Well, I knew about the curse, but a spell? My spell? What kind of game was he playing now?
“Well?” Mr. Duvall said.
“Give me more information about this spell,” Mr. Wesley said. Gods bless him, he hadn’t even flinched at the possibility.
“She knows exactly what we’re talking about.” Mr. Bradley spat, his voice raspy. He finished the statement by coughing uncontrollably into the cloth. Mr. Duvall patted Mr. Bradley’s arm until Mr. Bradley raised his fiery eyes and glared. Mr. Duvall snatched his hand away as if he feared he’d lose it.
“Mr. Duvall, Mr. Bradley,” Mr. Wesley said, “we can’t reply to the request unless you inform us about it.”
Mr. Duvall glanced at Mr. Bradley, cleared his throat, straightened his tie, and said, “As you know, this curse is the one originally placed upon Peter Bradley. Ms. Byrne took it from Peter and laid it upon Mr. Bradley. At the same time, she placed a spell upon him that will not allow him to take anything from anyone. Observe.”
Mr. Duvall pulled a pen from his shirt pocket and held it in front of him. Mr. Bradley extended his hand to take it and stopped inches short. He strained toward the pen but could come no closer.
I furrowed my brow. I hadn’t put a spell on Mr. Bradley. The last time I’d seen him, he was trying to get me killed. Gods, everything had been so confusing. And the pain. Holy helheim, the pain. I closed my eyes and put my hands to my face, trying to recall what had happened. I replayed the memories in my head. I was sitting on the floor in Rick’s house. Mr. Bradley had come toward me with the net. I’d sent the curse toward him before he could complete the imprisonment spell and I pulled the net from myself. I’d said something to him. Gods, I had been so angry. So hurt. I didn’t want him to hurt me or anyone else ever again. I’d said . . . what had I said? Something about stopping. Something about keeping him from hurting me again. Something about not taking anything from me . . . no . . . it was about not taking anything from anyone. Oh, dear gods! I had cast a spell. I hadn’t meant to, but I’d done it nonetheless. And the previous meeting now made more sense. That’s why his employees found they could discuss Mr. Bradley’s spell. His was failing because of mine.
Mr. Wesley touched my shoulder. I pulled my hands from my face and looked at him. Horror must have been all over my face, because he pulled back when my eyes met his. Then he leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “What is it?”
I whispered back, “He’s right. I didn’t know I’d done it, but I did put a spell on him.”
“What do we have to work with? Can you remove either?”
“It’s my spell, I should be able to . . .” My whispers faded away as a new horror dawned on me. “Wait. I have to check something.”
I brought the alternate realm to the forefront of my vision and concentrated on the curse. I found the paper-thin golden lining of the goddess’s binding spell, then looked deeper, like Urd did when she released Mr. Bradley’s employees. My spell lay within the goddess’s binding spell, linked to it. And then I saw the darkness, more like felt it. It was cold, so cold, and quieter than death. It wasn’t a spell. It was a little like the curse, it seemed to have a presence. I concentrated, and tried to touch it more deeply, but I couldn’t sense anything else, almost as if it shielded itself from me. And it was linked too. All of them, bound together. Everything would be near impossible to break. Holy mothers of the gods, I wouldn’t be able to do it, not alone, and not with help from anyone I knew—well, no one mortal. I touched Mr. Wesley’s arm and whispered the information into his ear.
Mr. Wesley nodded and addressed Mr. Duvall. “Would you agree to drop the suit if Ms. Byrne attempts to remove both the curse and the spell you would like removed?” Mr. Wesley said.
Mr. Bradley looked from Mr. Wesley’s calm face to my stricken one and back again. That horrid smile spread across his sickly face. “Either she removes them, or I take everything she has from her.”
“Mr. Bradley,” Mr. Duvall said, “it would be in your best interest to allow me and Mr. Wesley to negotiate.”
The look that Mr. Bradley gave the lawyer let him know who was in charge; and it wasn’t the lawyer. He fell silent, resentment and anger all about him.
Mr. Wesley addressed Mr. Bradley. “We came to this meeting in good faith that we’d be negotiating. Thus far, there is nothing to negotiate. What are you willing to give for the removal of one or both items, Mr. Bradley?”
The smile on his face turned predatory and I stilled. All his anger faded in one instant to be replaced with pure pleasure. This couldn’t be good. Anything that gave him pleasure was going to be bad. Really, really bad. My heart picked up and my brain cast about, looking at possibilities and knowing they probably came up short.
Mr. Bradley nodded at Mr. Duvall and the lawyer went to work on his computer. A few pregnant moments passed and finally, Mr.
Duvall turned the laptop toward us. It showed a barren white room and two masculine forms seated together face-to-face against a wall. One of them was touching a keypad by the room’s single door. My breath stopped in my throat. Dear gods, no. Please, please, no. No, no, no. But I knew who it was before Mr. Duvall pressed a few keys, zooming the camera in on the figures.
I cried out, bolting out of the chair and twisting my hands.
Daniel pushed me behind him and I twisted his shirt in my fists, glaring at Mr. Bradley over Daniel’s shoulder. The bastard. I had to do something. I had to stop this. I let go of Daniel’s shirt and stepped around him. I wanted to claw Mr. Bradley’s eyes from his head and listen to his screams. Daniel grabbed my shoulder, holding me, keeping me from advancing on Mr. Bradley.
“If you ever want to see your children again, Ms. Byrne,” Mr. Bradley said quietly, still radiating that awful joy, “you will remove both the curse and the spell from me.”
He’d release my children. I’d make him, or I’d kill him. I didn’t care how it ended, so long as they came out of it alive and well. Much to Daniel’s, and my own, surprise, I bent my knees, twisting, looking much like a dancer. The move broke his hold, and I turned again toward Mr. Bradley, taking a step forward. This time Daniel grabbed my shoulders and pulled me against him. Part of my body registered the fact that his was pressed against mine. It was the primal part. The twin to the rage that promised my children would be saved. I turned to him, wanting equally to kiss him and bite him. To take him to the ground and ride him with wild abandon and to claw at him, screaming. I didn’t do either and my voice was dangerously low and calm.
“I need to get my children back.”
“I know, but not this way.”
“Why not?”
“Because it won’t get them back. And if it does, it won’t get them back in one piece.”
It took my brain longer than it should have to fully comprehend his words. They came with the full realization that he was right. There would be some pleasure in hurting Mr. Bradley, but it would mean the boys would probably be hurt. And that was unacceptable. But there was another way. Mr. Bradley had offered it up himself. I didn’t know how I’d do it, but I’d find a way. I’d sell my own soul to Satan himself if that’s what it took. I’d remove the spell and the curse. Then the boys would be okay.
It was as if Daniel and I had carried on an entire conversation in the blink of an eye. I could see him following my thought processes as if they were his own. I nodded at him, as if he’d come to the same conclusion, turned, and opened my mouth to promise Mr. Bradley I’d do as he asked.
But Mr. Wesley must have been aware of my state of mind as well.
“Don’t say a word,” he cut me off before I could say anything.
“But . . .” I pointed my finger at the screen.
“Not. A. Word.” He turned to Mr. Bradley and Mr. Duvall. “I need a word with my client.”
My outwardly calm rage transformed. I threw up my arms, crossed them, dropped them to my side, and started stalking across the room, pacing back and forth like a caged lion. I couldn’t beat Mr. Bradley senseless. I didn’t know how to remove the damned curse and spell from Mr. Bradley right this moment. I had to do something. I had to research, to find a deity that could help. One that, hopefully, wouldn’t kill me if I still worked with others. One that the others wouldn’t be too terribly offended that I had allied myself with. I couldn’t let anything happen to them, my boys, my children, my world.
I had to make sure they would be okay. That Mr. Bradley wouldn’t hurt them until I could find a way to fix him. I stopped pacing abruptly, and turned to Mr. Bradley. “I’ll—”
Daniel’s hand slapped over my mouth, cutting off my words. I turned a vitriolic gaze on him and grabbed his hand, trying to force it away from my mouth. His other hand came around the back of my head and he pulled me toward him. He whispered vehemently in my ear. “Not a word.”
“Mmmmph!” I said, still trying to pry his hand away.
He gave me a little shake. “Not another word. I mean it.” He moved me away from him by extending his arms and caught my eyes with his. They blazed as hot as mine. And then he pulled me forward again to say something else. “We’ll get them back.”
I calmed for a moment, tears suddenly springing to life. He had to be right. We had to get them back.
“Really?” I said. Only it came out so muffled I was surprised he understood me.
He nodded. Once. A promise. And the look in his eyes said he’d move heaven and hell to see it through. The same heaven and hell that I was prepared to move. I pictured his daughter, quiet and still on the bed. He knew. He’d help me. Between the two of us, we’d find a way. I sighed through my nose, dropping my hands away from his.
He nodded once again, firmly, and then released me.
I stepped toward him and wrapped my arms around him, pressing my cheek into his chest. Without hesitation, his arms encircled me.
Mr. Bradley sat back, taking in the scene and looking content despite the pallor of his skin. “Take as long as you need. Well . . . take as long as you feel you can. We’ll wait outside.”
My phone pinged just as the door was closing behind them. I ignored it.
I turned to Daniel, that calm rage covering me once again. “Game plan.”
My phone pinged again.
“We need to report this,” Mr. Wesley said.
“No!” Daniel and I said simultaneously, whirling to face the lawyer.
“He’ll kill them,” I said, turning to Daniel and seeing him nod.
My phone pinged.
“Twenty-four hours,” Daniel said. “Give us twenty-four hours and then you can call in the authorities.”
Mr. Wesley pursed his lips and thought for a moment. “It would be better for everyone—”
“No,” I said again, my voice like steel. “I will not risk losing them, and Mr. Bradley isn’t above torture. Twenty-four hours. Buy us the time.” I nodded toward the door.
Mr. Wesley pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Then he met my gaze.
“Please,” I said.
He nodded, almost imperceptibly.
My phone pinged.
Mr. Wesley glanced at my phone and then continued, “I’ll step outside—” Ping. “—and tell them that you are researching—” Ping. “—how you may be able to accomplish this.” Ping. “That you’ll need time—” Ping. “—to see if it’s possible.” Ping.
“Would you please get that?” Mr. Wesley said and left the room.
I looked at the screen. Mom, uh, Amanda Byrne, is this you?
There was no icon. No name. It was as if it were being sent from nowhere. Who in helheim? And then I nearly slapped my forehead. Sean. Of course, it was Sean. He’d somehow gotten online through the panel in the wall. He’d been touching it.
Mom?
Mom. I need to know if I’ve got the right device.
Mom?
Mom?
Come on! Answer me.
Mom?
Mom?
Mom?
I looked at Daniel. My eyes were so wide, I felt like they might fall out of my head.
“What is it?” Daniel said.
I held up the phone to him.
He shook his head, obviously not understanding.
“It’s him. It’s Sean.” I sat down in the chair and started hitting letters. “He can interface with computers. He’s texting me.”
Sean. It’s me.
About freakin’ time! One sec . . . okay, I’ve got any other devices I reached out to out of memory. Someone’s taken Ethan and me.
Yes! Mr. Bradley just showed me video of you and Ethan. How are you? Where are you?
We’re okay. They haven’t hurt us. I’m trying to figure where we are. Distance isn’t easy to measure on the binary. I have to get the right network before I can land on an IP address, then I can track it to a physical one.
Text me the IP address w
hen you get it. I’ll work it from my side too.
“He’s trying to find their location,” I said to Daniel. “I’m going to reach out to the soldiers I’ve helped. Maybe they can get the boys out like Drew got me out.”
“I’ve got contacts too.” He grabbed his phone. “Some of them are in or near Denver. The boys are probably still there or in a neighboring city. There’s no reason to move them a long distance.”
You know hackers?
No, but Miriam knows law enforcement and she might know someone who can help track down an address.
Daniel and I are pulling together people to get you out. Let me know the minute you find out where you are. If we find out first, I’ll let you know someone’s coming. Then get you and Ethan ready to move. I’m calling Miriam.
My finger’s shook as I dialed Miriam’s number. Her voice came through the earpiece with her usual response to an unvoiced situation.
“Fuck these guys!” she said, “We’ll find them.”
“How do you usually find someone? Gods, I’ve never actually worked with you. I have no idea how any of this works.”
“It takes a bit of time and rummaging around people’s minds. Getting psychic signatures from the boys’ minds, and from others around them that they’ve interacted with. Finding clues in everyone’s heads as to locations. It’s not quick, but we’ll find them.”
“Thank the gods.” I’d clung to the idea that Daniel and I could find them, but I had complete faith in Miriam. She loved the boys as if they were her own, and she was as protective of them as she was of me. “Gods, Miriam, what would I do without you?”
“About as well as I’d do without you. I’ll find them. You find a way to get them out. I’ll call you as soon as I know where they are.”
She was right. And I knew where to start. I’d helped quite a few soldiers over the years, and many of them were in Denver; it was where I started helping them. Part of me felt guilty. I hadn’t helped them to call on them later. I’d never expected to have contact with any of them again. But I’d sell my soul to get the boys back and safe. I could handle a bit of guilt. I pulled out my computer. I’d have to dig through my accounting software to get the names of every soldier I’d helped in the Denver area. The information was probably on the invoices. I hadn’t even finished opening my records when Daniel touched my shoulder. I looked up into his face.
Power Play (Amanda Byrne Book 1) Page 24
