Oberon Boxed Set (Books 1-3) Welcome to Oberon

by P. G. Forte

  “Shit. I sure hope you know what you’re talking about,” Nick muttered.

  “I do,” Sam said, settling back comfortably in his seat. He could feel Marsha’s presence in the back of his mind, beckoning him. He had to battle the urge to abandon the struggle, to close his eyes and just sink into her warmth; to lose himself there.

  He hadn’t slept well the night before, and now he was completely exhausted from the strain of trying to see.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he could almost hear her whisper, but he was very much afraid that it did. Nick needed his help to get out of here, and he wouldn’t be any help at all if he fell asleep.

  Finally, they reached the point where the road began to rise in earnest. The water grew more and more shallow, and then it was behind them entirely. The double vision Sam had been experiencing flickered and went out, like a film come abruptly to an end.

  Nick floored the gas, and Sam breathed a tired sigh. They were home free. He could relax now. Closing his eyes, he searched his mind once more for Marsha. He felt unaccountably lonely. Her presence in his life seemed suddenly a more urgent matter for him than oxygen. But she was gone, and he could no longer sense her.

  When he opened his eyes again, a little while later, he was surprised to see that they had reached the highway, but were heading away from town. Nick’s face wore a look of intense concentration.

  “Something wrong?” Sam asked.

  “No,” Nick said too quickly, sounding unconvinced. “I don’t think so. Maybe. I have to make a stop. There’s something I need to check out. Something feels... strange.”

  Strange? Sam glanced at him wonderingly. More strange than what had just happened? Now, that would be something worth seeing.

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  * * * *

  Chapter Thirty Six

  * * * *

  Bright light, painfully sharp, pierced the darkness, and Ryan felt himself tugged roughly back to consciousness. His heart was racing – pounding way too hard and fast – and an inchoate fury, just this side of murderous, raged inside him. He tried to blink, to close his eyes against the light, but something held them open. Something gentle and firm, but he struggled against it, anyway.

  Then the light disappeared and he found he could blink again. He squeezed his eyes shut, but an instant later the bitter smell of ammonia seared his nostrils.

  He could feel the cold, hard, concrete surface of the floor beneath him as he jerked himself erect, his legs were stretched out in front of him, and the throbbing pain in his head made him wish he were not just unconscious but already dead.

  His eyes opened of their own accord this time, and he scanned the room in a frantic rush, too rapidly to focus on anything until his vision settled finally on Siobhan. She knelt in front of him, her own eyes narrowed in concern as she studied him.

  For just an instant, the sight of her brought a sense of peace, of surety and relief. But then his memory returned and kicked him in the chest. She shot him! Furious, he tried to lunge for her, only to discover that his right wrist was caught on something on the floor by his side. Glancing down at it, he discovered he’d been handcuffed to the iron railing at the foot of the staircase.

  I don’t fucking believe this shit. He struggled to pry his wrist free, clawing at the restraint, even though the rational part of his brain knew he hadn’t a prayer.

  “Easy now,” Siobhan soothed. Her cool hands softly stroked through his hair, and over his face. “Easy. It’s okay. Shh. Ryan, stop it, please, I don’t want you hurting yourself. Please, just... just try and calm down.” It was the same tone, the same actions, probably the same damn words she’d use to gentle an animal who was frightened, or hurt. Or one she was about to put down.

  And into which of those categories would she put him? Still too stunned to speak, he left off struggling with the cuff, and grabbed for her with his left hand, but she scooted back out of range.

  A small, bittersweet smile curved her lips. “Hey, I guess you’re awake now, huh? How’s your head feel? Are you okay?”

  Okay? He felt his lips curl back in a snarl, felt his blood pressure soar through the roof. He couldn’t even begin to answer that one! Of all the words he could think of not using to describe how he felt right now, okay pretty much topped the list. Followed by wonderful, great, fantastic, sensational, and fine.

  He opened his mouth to tell her so, but he couldn’t get the words out – or any words, for that matter. His mouth was too dry, his tongue too thick, and his thoughts too scrambled. He felt the fury edge its way over into fear. Jesus, what else had she done to him?

  “I had to guess at the dosage for the antidote,” she said, still watching him with a vaguely worried expression on her face. “So, if you’re feeling a little agitated, or anything like that, I may have given you too much.

  “Antidote?” The word came out as a low, guttural growl, barely audible. Oh, crap. How fucking wonderful was that? First she shoots him with some damn horse tranquilizer, then she chains him up like a rabid dog, and then—? It suddenly occurred to him that the handcuffs had been a reasonably intelligent move on her part. Because if she hadn’t taken the precaution of restraining him, he’d probably have gone for her throat by now. Agitated didn’t begin to cover it, But yeah, he figured it was safe to say that whatever she’d given him, there’d been way too damn much of it. But at least now he knew why his heart was beating like it was about to explode.

  “I would have just let you sleep it off, you know,” she told him. “But you hit your head so hard when you fell, I was worried you might have a concussion. How many fingers am I holding up?”

  He stared at her stone-faced, chest heaving. He didn’t give a flying fuck how many fingers she had up, or how worried she might be about his head. All he wanted, at this exact moment, was for her to unlock the cuffs and start explaining herself.

  He was also struggling with an inexplicable urge to kiss her stupid, but that, he figured, was just the drugs talking.

  She’d better have a damn good reason for this. Otherwise as soon as he got free, he was gonna drag her ass downtown and lock her up for... something. Shit, maybe he’d do it anyway.

  Siobhan sighed and dropped her hand, obviously giving up on the idea of getting him to respond. “Look, do you want some tea or something? Never mind. I’ll just make you some, anyway.”

  When she’d gone, Ryan leaned his head back against the wall and checked out his surroundings. The guy on the table was still doing the sleeping beauty routine. He wondered why she hadn’t bothered waking him up, too?

  One thing was certain, if that really was her husband, it didn’t look like she’d been giving him with a whole lot of lovin’. Ryan considered the thought, and found it enormously cheering.

  He turned his head when he heard the door at the top of the stairs open, and watched as she descended the stairs. Carefully. Slowly. Hugging the wall in an effort to stay clear of his free hand. Good idea. His eyes followed her every move, and the first chance he got to grab her, he’d—

  There was a faint, scratching sound at the door, and then his dog was bounding down the stairs as well, nearly knocking Siobhan over in the process. And then it was jumping on top of him, and licking his face. Shit. Ryan recoiled from the hot blast of doggy breath in his face, from the weight of the dog’s paw, parked squarely in the center of his bruised chest. He tried fending it off one handed, but with no success. It took Siobhan grabbing the dog by its collar and hauling it backwards, before it would settle down and leave him alone.

  The dog collapsed in a panting heap on the floor, and Ryan glared balefully at the two of them as Siobhan silently extended a tray that held a steaming mug towards him. He considered the matter as carefully as his jittery brain would allow. He considered not taking it, considered tossing the tea on the floor, or in her face. But that wasn’t going to help him get free. In the end, he took the mug and sipped gingerly at the tea, hoping like hell she hadn’t decided to doctor him up with anything els
e.

  Siobhan crouched nearby, watching him. “I’m so sorry about this Ryan,” she said at last, tears gleaming in her eyes. “I never meant— I didn’t want any of this to happen. But when you showed up I— I just couldn’t let you get involved in this.”

  The tea had soothed the dryness in his throat a little, but speaking was still an effort. “What happened?”

  She sighed. “Well, you were right. Tim wasn’t dead. He showed up this morning—he got in somehow, when I wasn’t looking, and...”

  She broke off, tears running down her cheeks again, and he watched as she struggled to regain her control.

  “He killed my babies,” she whispered, as she wiped at her eyes. He could hear the pain in her voice and despite being majorly pissed, still his heart ached for her. “There was no accident with the boat, Ryan. He- He just killed them! He murdered them... for no other reason than to get back at me.”

  Ryan sighed. Yeah, he’d been afraid that might be the case. The bastard. “How’d you find out?”

  She choked out a sad little laugh. “Oh, he told me all about it. He, he bragged about it, you know? Like it was a joke, or, or something. Like he’d enjoyed it. That’s why, when he came after me with the glass, I—” She broke off and turned to look at the table, her face pitiless and cold. “Well, I guess it’s nice to know that ten years of martial arts practice came in useful for something. And who knows, maybe if I’m lucky, they’ll let me teach classes on it while I’m in prison.”

  Prison? Ryan frowned, as his thoughts adjusted to the concept. Well, shit, was that what this was about? That’s what she was afraid of?

  He shook his head wearily. “Come on, Siobhan, what’re you talking about? No one’s gonna send you to prison for defending yourself. Now, give me the key to these cuffs so I can call and have the bastard picked up. Shit, sweetheart, you should’ve known better than to think I’d do something like that.”

  She turned back to look at him. Her eyes, bright with hopeful surprise at first, turned quickly dull. Her voice was equally dull, and lethally soft. “Oh, I’m afraid it not gonna be that simple, Ryan. I’m not done with him, you see. And, I can’t let you go, either. Not just yet. I didn’t want you to be here for this, or to be conscious, or to see it.” She laughed again, even more sadly this time. “I was hoping— I actually thought we might have a chance, after this was over – if I could keep you from finding out about it. But I guess it’s better this way. I love you too much to do that to you, to keep that kind of secret from you, and…and anyway, you deserve better than to be involved with a murderer.”

  He stared at her. He couldn’t understand most of what she’d said, and didn’t believe the rest. Did she really just say— “What?”

  She nodded, her face tired and resigned, but oddly serene, as she got to her feet. “Yeah, I’m sorry Ryan. I have to kill him.”

  Oh, sweet Jesus. Ryan felt his already labored heart beat faster, chills ran down his spine. “No, Siobhan, wait—”

  There was a rolling cart pulled up next to the table where her husband was still unconscious. Ryan watched in horror as Siobhan walked calmly over to it and began fiddling with the equipment assembled there; a syringe, a scalpel, forceps, a short length of rubber tubing.

  “You can’t be serious about this,” he said, although he had no doubt at all that she was. “I mean, think about what you’re saying, Siobhan, it’s not—”

  “Think about it?” She rounded on him, eyes flashing furiously. “What’s there to think about, Ryan? The man’s scum. Dirt. A mutant. He doesn’t deserve to live. No one’s safe with people like him walking the planet. I’m doing the world a favor taking him out!”

  “I know,” Ryan said, doing his best to stay calm, even as his voice shook. “You’re probably right about that, but—”

  “Probably?”

  His gun. The instant its image popped into his brain he carefully slid his hand around to the back of his jeans. He knew he’d never really be able use it against her, but maybe—

  “Shit,” he cursed softly in frustrated surprise. The gun was gone.

  “Oh, Ryan.” Siobhan shook her head, pity and contempt mingling in her gaze as she opened one of the drawers on the cart and pulled out his gun. She held it up for him to see. “Honey, when did you start thinking I was stupid?”

  “Not stupid,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment as despair lodged in his chest.

  “What then? Forgetful? Inept?”

  “Distracted.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I was hoping—”

  The sound of an indrawn breath echoed loudly in the room. Ryan glanced behind him. Scout stood at the top of the stairs, swaying slightly, her eyes even wider, her face more pale than they’d been when he’d left her in the jeep. With all the craziness going on, he’d forgotten she was even there.

  “Shit.” Siobhan shoved the gun back into the drawer. “Scout, what the hell are you doing here?”

  “I need help,” Scout said simply, her voice was quiet, but edged with fear.

  “She’s in labor,” Ryan explained wearily, wondering how much worse his day could get. “The road to the hospital’s washed out and—”

  “So you brought her to me?” Siobhan demanded incredulously. “Ryan, have you gone completely crazy in the last week? Do you see a license to practice medicine hanging anywhere around here? Don’t you know that I could go to jail for doing something like that?”

  She’d go to jail for murder, too, he thought, relieved that it seemed to have slipped her mind. Maybe there was still a chance he could fix things.

  “I don’t think she’s gonna sue you, Siobhan,” he said quietly. “She just doesn’t want her baby to die.”

  As he’d hoped, anguish and compassion replaced the anger on her face.

  “I’m sure you can think of some way to rescue her.” He paused to let the words sink in, and then added. “This is a rescue center, isn’t it? Isn’t that what you do here?”

  She shot him an evil look that said she knew exactly what he was trying, and it wasn’t going to work, but then she turned back to Scout. “Come on, I’ll see what I can do. Why don’t you lie down over there.” Siobhan indicated the second examining table.

  Scout hesitated, her eyes still flicking back and forth between the two of them. “Uh... who’s that?” she asked, nodding at the still unconscious Tim.

  Siobhan spared him a brief, disinterested glance. “My husband.”

  “Your—? Wait, I thought he was dead?” Scout sounded surprised.

  Siobhan nodded, and then headed over to the supply cabinet. “Yeah, me, too. Unfortunately, he’s not. Now, forget about him, and get on down here, if you want me to help you.”

  Ryan allowed himself to relax slightly, he felt some of the unnatural tension in his body ease up a bit. This could work, he thought hopefully. Surely, once her nurturing instincts were engaged she’d forget about this other shit. Wouldn’t she?

  He watched Scout make her way awkwardly down the stairs, and hoist herself up on the empty table.

  Siobhan rolled an IV stand up next to the table, and wrapped a length of rubber around Scout’s arm. “I sure hope I know what I’m doing,” she muttered, as she searched for a vein. “I’m gonna try a slow magnesium sulfate drip, just to relax your muscles. That’s the best I can do. If it doesn’t work—” she broke off laughing. “Hell, I don’t know why I’m worried about jail. If this doesn’t work Nick’ll probably kill me.”

  “I wouldn’t worry if I were you,” Ryan said gloomily, “This was my idea, remember? If it doesn’t work, it’ll be my ass in a sling. Not yours.” He could just imagine trying to explain his way out of this one. Shit, Greco’d have his head on a fucking platter, and he wouldn’t blame him for a minute. He’d deserve it. Maybe Siobhan was right, maybe he had gone crazy. Certainly the last few weeks seemed, in retrospect, to have been nothing but one bad idea after another.

  “Oh, I’m sure there’ll be more than enough grief to go ar
ound,” Siobhan assured him.

  Once she’d finished setting up the drip she turned to him. “You know Ryan, you were only partly right before. I’ve rescued a lot of animals, but I’ve also had to put more than a few of them to sleep. You were taking a very big risk, bringing her here, but it’s not going to change anything. I said I was going to kill him, and I am. Now, you can arrest me for it afterwards, if you have to, but I’m not going to let you stop me.”

  “Damn right, I’d arrest you. ‘Cept it’s not gonna happen.” It was a big risk, Ryan thought. But this was a high stakes game they were playing. And he was pretty sure she’d just shown him her hand. “Let’s cut the crap, okay, Siobhan? You’re not a killer, and we both know it.”

  “Wait a minute, what’re you guys talking about?” Scout asked, pushing herself up on an elbow and staring at them, with a worried frown. “What’s going on here?”

  “Would you please lie down?” Siobhan snapped at her. “You’re supposed to be trying to relax.”

  Scout stared back at her, not moving. “Well, you know, Siobhan, I’m finding it a little hard to relax while I’ve got a needle filled with I-don’t-know-what sticking in my arm, and you two discussing whether or not you’re gonna commit murder. Whose murder? What’s happening?”

  Siobhan sighed, and leaned back against the cart. “Fine. You’ll find out anyway, I guess. What’s happening, Scout, is this: that bastard husband of mine killed my daughters. He murdered them in cold blood. He took them out in my boat and he drowned them. He spent the last ten years torturing me with that, and today he came here to kill me.”

  Once more, Siobhan’s glance raked over the unconscious man. Ryan didn’t think he’d ever seen a colder expression on anyone’s face.

  She sighed, and turned back to Scout. “Unfortunately for Tim, going up against me wasn’t quite as easy as drowning a couple of eight year olds. So now, it’s my turn. And I’m going to kill him. Except, Ryan here is having a little problem believing I’m capable of that.”