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

by P. G. Forte

  There was a huge crash, as the rolling cart went careening across the floor.

  “Siobhan, watch out!” Scout shouted.

  Glancing over Siobhan’s shoulder, Ryan saw her husband advancing on them with the scalpel he’d taken from the cart clutched in his hand.

  “Oh, shit. C’mon, gimme the key. Hurry!”

  But she’d spun away from him, unheeding; her body tense, poised for battle. Her stance radiated confidence, eagerness. His heart clenched, and then began to race once more. He knew she was spoiling for this fight, but he also recognized the unnatural energy vibrating through her opponent as a result of the drugs she’d given him.

  Adrenaline flooded his system anew as he remembered his own reaction to the stimulant. Much as he loved her, the drug-induced rage had left him wanting to throttle her to within an inch of her life. What effect would it have on this maniac, who already wanted her dead?

  “Siobhan, be careful!” Ryan called. Distracted, she half-turned at the sound of his voice, and that’s when he hit her. A backhanded blow that struck her jaw and sent her flying.

  Before Tim could go after her, there was an eruption of fur as the dog lunged for his leg. The blade flashed silver through the air and the dog went down with an agonized yelp.

  “Ryan! Here, catch!” Scout shouted, and Ryan stretched to grab his gun as it came sliding across the floor to him.

  He caught it, lifted his head to aim, and then froze; his heart dancing to a swift and sudden stop.

  Tim had taken hold of Scout. He had one arm wrapped securely around her neck, and the other—the one that held the scalpel still – pressed firmly into her belly.

  “Oh, my God,” Siobhan said, as she got to her feet, unsteadily. Her face had gone dead white. “Oh, my God, Tim, no! No, don’t. Tim, please. Let her go.”

  He swung around to face her, his eyes black with hatred.

  His face worked furiously, and Ryan could imagine the effort it was costing him to speak. “Leaving... now... don’t try ... stop me.”

  “No.” Siobhan took a step towards him, stopping abruptly as the arm around Scout’s neck jerked tighter. Blood appeared around the point of the blade. Eyes glazed with terror, Scout whimpered softly.

  “Tim, please,” Siobhan pleaded. “Please, let her go. You don’t want to hurt her. I, I’ll go with you, instead. How about that, huh? Just—”

  “You... don’t get... to choose,” Tim growled, still struggling with his speech, but Ryan saw the vicious gleam in his eyes, the smile that curled his lips. The son of a bitch was loving every trace of anguish on her face.

  Ryan cursed silently. One clear shot—that was all he needed, all he was waiting for. But it didn’t look like he was going to get it.

  Helpless, he watched Tim edge toward the back door, using Scout to shield himself.

  “Open it!” Tim ordered when they’d made it to the door, but Scout seemed too far-gone, too frozen with fear to respond. He turned his glare on Siobhan again. “You, then.”

  She hesitated. “Tim, I—”

  “Now!” he spat. Ryan stiffened as the red stain spread faster across the front of Scout’s shirt.

  Siobhan must have seen the same thing. Uttering a strangled cry she sprang to the door and shoved it wide. Rain and a rush of cold air rolled through the room, fluttering the pages of the charts that hung next to each of the cages, scattering the papers on the desk in the corner, piercing Ryan with a deadly, chill certainty. The bastard was getting away.

  “Get... back,” Tim ordered, and Siobhan backed off slowly. One small step, and then another. Ryan read the desperation in her gaze and could almost see her mind working, as she searched for an opening, a weakness.

  No, he pleaded silently with her. No, don’t try it. Don’t!

  Scout seemed to have slipped into a catatonic state, she looked barely conscious as she was yanked out the door. Tim turned one last malignant glare on Siobhan as he ducked into the rain.

  His lips twisted into a grotesque smile. “I’ll be back,” he promised as he pulled Scout through the door, and then kicked it shut behind them.

  “Siobhan, no!” Ryan shouted as she grabbed for the handle. “Get me out of this! Now!”

  * * * *

  Scout couldn’t remember ever having been more frightened in her life. Even last summer hadn’t been this bad. She’d been too disoriented at the time, too confused to make sense of what was happening until later.

  But everything that happened now was as brightly defined as crystal. Sharp and clear, totally terrifying.

  The wind whipped her hair across her eyes, almost blinding her, and the shock of cold rain on her face stole her breath away. Impressions poured in from all her senses, but her beleaguered brain couldn’t even begin to catalog them.

  She stumbled when her foot hit a rock at the edge of the parking lot, and he jerked her upright. She could feel him quivering with malice, and she knew without a doubt that he would kill her.

  “Oh, God,” she prayed silently. “Please, help me.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw lights and a flash of red through the trees that bordered the parking lot. And then a familiar vehicle screamed to a stop in front of the jeeps. Nick. Hope and relief poured through her. Despite the blade poised to slice her open, and the arm at her neck, threatening to steal the breath from her lungs, she knew she was saved.

  * * * *

  Ryan had been running hell bent down the path that led to the parking lot, with Siobhan at his back, when the sound of a single gunshot brought him up sharp. Shit. Despair tore through him in the instant before he remembered that the bastard wasn’t carrying a gun.

  He rounded the final corner cautiously, not unduly surprised by the sight that met his eyes.

  Nick, gun in hand, stared at the lifeless body on the ground at his feet. His other arm was wrapped securely around his wife, who stood trembling within his embrace, her face hidden against his chest.

  Sam stood a short distance away, hands in his jacket pockets, his face impassive, his eyes cool and thoughtful.

  Nick looked up at the sound of their approach, and Ryan saw the furious fierceness that blazed in his eyes for just a moment, before their fires were banked. The two men exchanged a barely perceptible nod, and then Nick looked at Siobhan.

  “Your husband, I presume?” he asked nodding at the ground.

  Her head jerked once in affirmation, “Is he dead?”

  Nick sighed, and wrapped both arms around Scout. “Yeah. He is now.”

  “Good,” Siobhan said, in a voice as soft and warm as granite.

  Scout murmured something against Nick’s shoulder, and he looked at her. “What’s that, hon?”

  She lifted her head. A wild light glittered in her eyes. “And doubly dying shall go down to the vile dust from whence he sprung. Unwept, unhonored and unsung.”

  The startled silence that greeted this pronouncement was broken by the ringing of a cell phone. The strange light faded from Scout’s eyes as she reached for her pocket. Her hand was shaking as she pulled out her phone and stared at it. Nick slid his gun back beneath his jacket and plucked the phone from her fingers. He glanced at the number in the digital display and then put the phone to his ear.

  “Yeah, Dan, what’s up?” he asked. Then his face went grim again. He looked at Scout. “Hon, you know anything about where Lucy might have gone to?”

  Back to Top

  * * * *

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  * * * *

  “Lucy, would you please calm down?” Marsha asked for what had to be the six billionth time.

  “We’re dead. Oh, God. We’re dead. We’re dead!” Lucy repeated over again. She turned to Marsha. “Calm? How can I be calm? How can you be calm? We’re dead!”

  “We’re not dead,” Marsha said once more, breathing a tired sigh. She rested her head against the seat and stared out into space, into a wide vista of silver, slate and gray, of clouds and rain and a far distant sea... and not
much more than that.

  They were poised at the edge of the cliff, the Explorer rocking dangerously with every gust of wind. But they weren’t dead – not yet, anyway.

  The phone started ringing once more from the back seat, and Lucy growled in frustration.

  “Shit! That God damned phone is gonna drive me crazy! Who the hell keeps calling me?”

  Probably Dan. Marsha thought it best not to say it. Probably Dan trying to reach his wife, who couldn’t reach the phone—not without pitching them both into the abyss.

  “I gotta try and get it, Marsha, what if it’s—”

  “No!” Marsha turned to face her again. “You want to be dead? Then go ahead and answer the friggin’ phone. If not, then just sit the hell down and stay still. Someone will come and get us. Just calm down.”

  “Calm down. Again with the calm down shit. What if we’re already dead, how long are you gonna want to sit here then?”

  “We’re not dead.” Marsha closed her eyes. She almost wished they were dead. Maybe then Lucy would shut up.

  “Oh, how would you know? I bet—”

  “How would I know?” Marsha opened her eyes at that. “Lucy, been there, done that – several times now, remember? I’d know.” Not that the afterlife was very different from this one, but it wasn’t exactly the same, either.

  “Well, if we’re not dead, it must be some kind of fucking miracle,” Lucy muttered, crossing her arms and looking at Marsha defiantly.

  “Absolutely,” Marsha agreed, remembering the way the vehicle had slowed suddenly, as it approached the edge, and the sound – like the brush of wings all around them. “For He shall give his angels charge over thee,” she murmured quietly. “To keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.”

  “Amen,” Lucy responded quietly, uncrossing her arms long enough to give Marsha’s hand a quick squeeze.

  Headlights on the road behind them suddenly illuminated the Explorer’s interior. They heard the sound of car doors slamming, and then Dan’s voice pierced the fog. “My God. Lucy! What the hell!”

  “Well, finally,” Lucy muttered, closing her eyes in relief. “Jeez. It’s about damn time you got your ass out here Cavanaugh.”

  Marsha watched as Dan slithered towards them through the mud, she saw Lucy wince at the look of absolute anguish on his face. For a long, tense moment she wasn’t altogether certain Dan wouldn’t try and rip the Explorer’s door off in a frantic attempt to reach his wife.

  The reality, and the danger of their precarious, far-from-stable predicament seemed to hit her then. Or maybe it was the fears harbored by their rescuers, communicating themselves to her mind that she felt. Either way, her earlier calm eroded. She closed her eyes and tried to stem the rising panic, only vaguely aware of voices shouting directions, and figures moving hurriedly about in the shadowy gloom, until a soft voice spoke soothingly from just outside her window.

  “You trying to get to heaven without me, angel?”

  Sam. Marsha opened her eyes. He was watching her steadily, his face so reassuringly calm, she felt her breathing slow just looking at him.

  “I’d rather not, Sam,” she said, swallowing hard. “At least not today.”

  He nodded, a slow, gentle smile curved one corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry, we’ll have you out of there soon.”

  It was a difficult business, extricating them from the vehicle, made more difficult by the mud and the fog and the sporadic gusts of wind. Still, within minutes, it seemed, they were being hauled from the Explorer.

  They had just gotten clear of it when yet another blast of wind rushed through the canyon. The Explorer rocked violently, forward and back. There was a loud creak as the root that had snagged the undercarriage gave way, and the next moment the vehicle pitched forward again and went crashing over the cliff.

  From the safety of Sam’s arms, Marsha watched as Lucy was all but swallowed up in Dan’s embrace.

  “My God, Luce! Shit! You could’ve— Are you trying to kill me, babe? Why the hell’d you go off like that without telling anyone?”

  Lucy’s voice was muffled. “Oh, relax, Cavanaugh. I’m fine.”

  “Fine?” Dan pulled away and glared at her. “You’re—”

  “Fine. Yes,” Lucy said, smiling tearfully up at him. “Now that you’re here, I am. How’d you find us, anyway?”

  Dan sighed, and pulled her close again. “Scout. She said she had a feeling you’d maybe come this way.”

  “Omigod, Dan, how is she? Did the baby—?”

  “They’re fine,” Dan said. “Everybody’s fine.” But Marsha thought the glance he shot in her direction said otherwise.

  She looked questioningly at Sam, but he just shook his head. “Everything’s okay now, angel.”

  Maybe, she thought, as she studied his face. But there were lines of strain around his eyes and mouth that hadn’t been there yesterday. “Really?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  Later, Sam, thought. There’d be plenty of time later to tell her about her brother-in-law. And the mess out at the cabin. They had all the time in the world now.

  “You look tired,” Marsha said, and reaching up she framed his face with her hands.

  Enchanted as always by the warmth of her touch, Sam felt the chill in his heart diminish. “Well, I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

  She smiled. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Oh, you do, huh?” Sam smiled, too, remembering the dream he’d had, just before dawn, of waking her up and climbing into bed with her. It had been a nice dream, and he’d been happy there, until the river came crashing through the cabin and woke him from it.

  “Mm-hm. And I think it’s time you went home, Sam.”

  He stared at her, surprised. Now, what did she mean by that, he wondered? Didn’t she know there was only one place in the world that felt like home to him, and that was wherever she happened to be.

  “I am home,” he told her.

  “I know,” she said, her smile warming him through and through. “But I meant back to our house.”

  “Our house? This isn’t just because of what happened here today, is it? Because if you’re only—”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s not just this. I’d made up my mind before the accident. And— I’m still not saying yes to marriage, Sam, but I do want the rest of it.” She bit her lip and peered up at him, tears glistening in her eyes. “I should have seen it sooner. I’m sorry. All this time I wasted when I—”

  “Shh,” he commanded as he bent to brush his lips across hers gently. “Not to worry, angel. You know what they say; timing is everything. And it just so happens, I’m an expert at that. I’d be happy to teach you all about it, if you like.”

  “An expert? Really?” Marsha’s smile grew wider. “And here I thought they said love was everything?”

  “Mm,” Sam murmured, just before he kissed her again. “I can do that, too.”

  * * * *

  Lucy sighed with relief as Dan buckled her into the passenger seat of his brother’s truck. Sometimes, she thought, it was kind of nice to be fussed over.

  “I’m sorry about your car,” she said, quietly contrite, as Dan slid behind the wheel.

  He frowned at her, his blue eyes troubled. “Lucy, I don’t give a shit about the car. As long as you’re all right – I don’t care about anything else. You do know that, don’t you?”

  She nodded, and then looked away when she felt her chin begin to tremble. She hated crying, and now—

  “Anyway, you probably did me a favor, you know,” Dan said as he put the truck in gear. “I was getting kinda tired of it. I’m thinking maybe I’ll get myself another truck, instead.”

  “A truck?” Lucy looked at her husband in surprise. How long had he been wanting a truck, she wondered?

  “Yeah, you know – like the one I used to have? We had a lot of fun in that old truck of mine.”

  Fun? Oh, yeah, they’d had fun, all right. L
ucy felt her cheeks grow warm, thinking of all the fun they’d had in it. But then the conversation she’d had – it felt like months ago – over the quilt came back to haunt her. About men and their cars and their mid-life crises. Was that why he thinking about a truck now? Was that why he’d been so distant lately?

  She’d sworn to herself, just last night, that she wasn’t going to ask, but after her experience today— Life was too short to spend it in fear and uncertainty.

  “Dan... did you ever think that you might be going through some kind of mid-life crisis?”

  “Mid-life?” Dan shook his head. “Impossible. The way you’re taking years off of it, I figure I’m way past the midpoint by now. Why do you ask?”

  “Well... new work habits, a new truck... I guess I’m wondering what’s coming next.” She sucked in a quick breath and tried to sound flip as she added, “A new trophy wife, perhaps?”

  Dan shot her a pained look. “Babe, you know damn well I’d—” he stopped suddenly, his face hardening. After a moment he continued. “Well, I tell you what, Luce. You keep scaring the shit out of me the way you did today, and that idea might begin to sound real attractive.”

  “Oh, would it really?” Lucy glowered at him. “Well, I’ll have you know, there was absolutely no reason for you to be so damn scared in the first place. I’m an excellent driver, Dan. And I can take care of myself just fine.”

  A brief bark of a laugh escaped from his lips, and he shook his head. “Excellent? Lucy, you are without a doubt the worst driver I have ever known.”

  She stared at him, incensed. “Oh, really?”

  “Yes. Really.” He glanced over at her, and she could see he was smiling, ruefully. “Lucky for both of us, I didn’t marry you for your driving skills.”

  “Yeah? So, why did you marry me, Cavanaugh?” she asked, angling her chin at him. She knew the answer to that one – because she’d been pregnant. But she’d had a rough day, and it would be really good if he could say something nice right about now.