If Beatrice was a Clear, I had someone on the inside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
In a strange way being idle in the Branson manor gave me some hope. Once they started moving me there may be less chance of being found, I assumed, although I didn’t want to underestimate StoneWall since they had managed to wire the manor at one time.
Mom? Are you there?
Be with you in a minute.
While waiting on telepathic hold, I thought more about Beatrice. The only way we could hear each other was if she were a Clear. The Branson’s couldn’t know, unless they were using her. Perhaps she was a spy, and they thought she was Bane.
Okay, I’m here, Mom said.
Do you know someone in the Clear world named Beatrice?
No, but that means little since we can use different names.
True. There is someone here employed by the Branson’s as some sort of servant on steroids named Beatrice. She brings me meals and things and communicated with me like a Clear �� as if she wanted me to know she’s a Clear.
(silence)
You there, Mom?
Describe her.
Um…medium height, long blond hair she wears in a tight pony, big round blue eyes, no anarchy tat.
Let me look into it.
Mom, you seem – barky…in a hurry.
Sorry, Layla, we’re kind of busy with this mess.
They are delaying the trip for at least a week. I’m stuck here.
Yes – but you’re safe.
The new bonding with Mom wasn’t making her less irritating and secretive. She must be so accustomed to spy work she held things back easily, or maybe she didn’t know what to tell me yet. Pity to whoever tried to interrogate her – good luck getting her to spill anything.
Darkness swept the room so I walked around and switched on a few low lights, making sure each corner of the huge space had its share of illumination. The dinner tray still sat near the door where I left it, most of the food untouched.
I must be off my game due to the trauma of being held hostage, because I didn’t see it before.
A note tucked under the plate.
They are moving you soon. Be ready. Burn this.
Mom! They are moving me soon and I don’t know when. Are you there?
She responded quickly. They suspect we are moving in. What do you know?
A note was under my plate. Beatrice must have left it. It said be ready.
Layla, listen to me. They could come for you anytime. Are you wearing your bracelet?
Um, that’s random…
Are you?
Yes, of course.
Good. She was relieved. One of the charms has a GPS.
Which one?
The heart.
Dad gave me the heart before…
Exactly.
Can’t you break in while I’m here?
No. We can’t penetrate the perimeter of the manor. Getting out of there will help us get to you.
You’ve been around here?
Several times.
You couldn’t throw a stone at the window?
(laughs) We can’t get closer than outside the gate. The security is the best I’ve seen. Tougher than when we bugged the place. Much tougher.
I burned the note then collapsed on the bed with no memory of transitioning to sleep.
He lay down next to me, wrapping his arms around me from behind, breath warm on my neck. Everything in me was tingling, alive.
You came, I moaned, keeping my eyes closed fearing he would vanish if I looked at him.
This is…wow. He said.
Without knowing how this all worked, one thing was certain – he was really next to me, or real enough, and I could feel him, taste him as if he would be there when I woke. But he wouldn’t be, so I vowed to keep my eyes closed until they were forced open.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
It wasn’t morning that woke me. And there was no knock this time.
They were silent, moving stealth in the pitch of night. Faces covered so I couldn’t recognize or identify, their heads shut down in rigid discipline, impossible to read.
Stuart! They’ve come!
A big dude swung me over his shoulder like I weighed close to nothing. Hustling me quickly through the house in silence, the homogenous attire and movements of my abductors were high precision.
When we reached the underground garage my eyes were covered. I wouldn’t know which of the twenty vehicles we would leave in.
Blindfolded. Leaving from garage.
Stay calm. We’re tracking you, he finally responded.
One of the three guided me into my seat – the person next to me buckled me in. It was a woman. Then I recognized Genevieve’s scent. Opium. Very Eighties.
Two men, one woman. Woman’s first name is Genevieve. One of the other names may be Klaus.
“I hope you’re not transmitting, Layla.” Genevieve said.
“No,” I quickly responded.
The car paused while the gate opened, and I waited to see what direction we turned on the main road.
Did I dare ask where they were taking me? It was doubtful I would get a response. My heart raced and the nerves pulsing in my stomach made me want to retch. I decided to curb any recalcitrant behavior until necessary. “Choose your battles,” Dad always said.
We turned left on the main road, I think. I hoped Liz or Stuart heard me.
We drove for a few minutes until the car slowed down, veering to the side of the road before reaching a complete stop.
“Let’s go,” the woman’s voice was light but commanding.
“Go where?” I asked.
No one responded. It was worth a shot.
Oh my god, we’ve stopped. I’m dead.
We were out of the car, and they were leading me somewhere, but we were still walking on the road. A car door opened and I was gently pushed inside, feeling for the solid space of a seat.
Switching cars.
Genevieve was still and silent, while one of the men drove and one sat in the passenger seat, occasionally mumbling either yes or no from the passenger seat into a cell phone. I wondered if Jasper was on the other end, choreographing the caper, designing my future.
Genevieve shifted slightly, and with two fingers applied extreme pressure at the base of my neck causing me to pass out.
When I came to the car had stopped, and I had no idea how much time had passed.
Layla, don’t respond. I can see you. Keep a poker face. I’m here.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The sound of helicopter blades whipping the air around was distinct, the rush of wind stirring everything around it.
And then it stopped, and my blindfold was removed.
Jasper stood in front of me, Andre standing slightly back, unable to meet my eyes.
“Layla, good to see you.” He said in his usual smug tone. “Sorry for the extreme transport measures but we can’t take chances. Your – mother and her friends at StoneWall are – clever.”
I stood glaring, loathing the sight of him and dreading the possibility of a long future in his company.
Where was Stuart? He said he was here.
“Are we ready?” Genevieve removed her hooded cap.
“Yes. Please escort Ms. Stone to the helicopter.” She gave me a gentle nudge as a signal to start walking while Jasper and the boys had a powwow.
They’re taking me up. Please hurry.
(nothing)
Anyone there?
(nothing)
Great. I’m screwed.
Once aboard the chopper, Jasper waved the pilot to take off and Genevieve tied the blindfold back around my eyes. Arms wrapped around my chest, the cold temperatures made me shiver as we rose slowly into the sky. Genevieve nudged me and said, “Coat. Here.” With some effort, she helped me into what seemed to be an oversized army jacket, which after zipping and snapping shut made the cold more bearable.
Up, up and away. Up in the air. Blindfolded.
>
(nothing)
“So, Genevieve, how does a girl like you submit an application for this line of work?” I couldn’t see but my mouth worked just fine.
(Thud)
Something hit the side of the metal machine. A large bird? Those casualties were probably a common occurrence up here.
(Thud)
Two birds?
“Shit,” Genevieve shouted to the pilot. “We have company.”
Oh, duh, of course.
Since I wasn’t otherwise restrained I lifted the blindfold. The door swung open, and my boyfriend flew in. Genevieve instantly threw a punch that Stuart blocked with ease. In return, he grabbed her collar and made a proposal. “Small space to fight in. One of us needs to go.”
Genevieve put a swift knee in his groin, causing him to double over. The pilot tilted the copter slightly. With Stuart nearest to the door, I figured the goal was to dump him out but he sacrificed holding his aching crotch from the pain for bracing himself.
In the meantime Genevieve had produced a long-barreled silver revolver now pointed at Stuart’s head. But in a flash quicker than my mind could register, she was gone. With little effort, my Guardian had retrieved her gun and threw her out into the moist early morning sky. I looked down briefly and watched her fall. It was far enough down to be fatal, and I opted to avoid watching the impact.
Stuart made saving lives look easy, and I wondered if that was the first fatality suffered at his hands. He ended someone’s life in front of my eyes, but I didn’t care. I felt like I should have cared, or felt remorse, or shock, but nothing in me changed. A Bane died in the line of duty; someone who could easily kill me, or Stuart, or anyone. Did she have kids, a husband, a girlfriend? Would someone mourn for her besides Jasper?
There was no time left to think about Genevieve. Now we were three and unless Stuart could pilot the thing, we were at the mercy of the man in the driver’s seat.
“Hello, love.” He kissed me quick, still sending charged volts to my toes, even in the face of death. He reached over and closed the door then stepped up to the empty co-pilot seat. “You will need to let me take over, mate.”
Yes, Stuart could pilot the thing. Why would I ever doubt?
The pilot with short, spiked brown hair grinned through his dark aviator glasses and said nothing.
“Suit yourself,” Stuart said in response to the pilot’s non-answer.
I kept missing his movements. They were like fast-action stunts you would need to rewind to examine if this were a movie. Somehow, Stuart and the pilot had switched seats, the pilot looked as bewildered as I felt, and his mouth hung open in a more humble demeanor now.
And Stuart piloted the helicopter. My boyfriend the aviator, one of the many talents he probably collected over the centuries that he never mentioned.
But the pilot quickly returned to his senses – he was Bane after all – and lunged at me. Stuart left his station to pull him off, clutching his throat and making a promise. “Touch her again and die.”
This was the second episode where I watched Stuart in a violent confrontation. Colonsay was more of a rescue, but I recognized the familiar contained rage from the night he pinned Andre to the car. When Stuart was…Stuart, he was a delectable, kind, gentle creature man-boy, and anyone would loose a bet to think this side of him existed.
But it did.
And it was very real.
He returned to the front of the helicopter after throwing the pilot hard against the closed door. It was growing crowded in the tight space. Sitting still was claustrophobic enough without all the activity. Stuart stopped the copter from wobbling out of control. While the pilot leaned against the door panting slightly, his phone rang.
“Don’t answer that.” Stuart ordered from the front, but pilot guy ignored him.
I knew it was Jasper.
They spoke another language. German? Some other eastern European dialect?
“I fucking speak Croatian asshole. Hang up!” He shouted, looking way too young to navigate the giant machine.
Oh sure, Croatian.
The pilot grinned again, reached behind the seat, pulled out a backpack, opened the door, and jumped.
Stuart stood, quickly closed the door then returned to his pilot duties.
“Sit up front with me.” I sat next to him, utterly astonished, glancing over as he expertly flipped switches and steered the bird calmly through the air. I couldn’t contain myself, and my hysterical laughter seemed appropriate in the moment. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh my god, oh my god.” Tears streamed down my face. “When did you, how can you…Croatian? Pilot? How long will it take before I know all there is to know about you? And are you just flying through the air now, landing on helicopters…oh my god…” Tears streamed down my face, while his turned serious.
“Adrenaline is a great motivator,” he said. “Hang on.”
We were headed down and fast. Stuart had put on the headset and obviously heard transmission.
My laughing stopped. “Crap! They have Mom, don’t they? They have Mom, Colin, and they are demanding we land…”
“Yes,” he solemnly replied. “Down there.”
There was enough dim winter sunlight to see a group of people standing below but I couldn’t make out individual faces yet.
Mom?
I’m here, Layla. There’s a gun to my head.
“Shit!” I screamed. “They’re holding a gun to Mom’s head. Hurry!”
Stuart’s unchanged expression told me he was thinking. After many long moments, he finally spoke. “Listen. We may need to play this by ear. Just stay locked into me mentally and go with it, okay?”
“Is there another choice?”
We landed a few yards away from the group. Jasper, Andre, pilot guy who apparently landed safe, two big thugs, Mom and Colin, sans Genevieve stood waiting, guns pulled, not looking terribly happy.
The two lynch men broke from the group and were headed toward us, presumably to provide a proper escort for us.
Relax. Go with the flow, he reminded me.
When we exited the helicopter, guns drove into our backs; the visible evil looks of the waiting Bane growing in focus as we approached.
“Don’t even think of chatting with each other or I’ll blow her brains out,” Jasper promised in a deepened voice void of emotion, his own gun aimed at Mom’s head.
Growing weary of Jasper’s paranoia and threats about our unique communication style, I started to think he wouldn’t know one way or the other. And in our current predicament, we had nothing to lose. They had guns, we didn’t, and seeing Mom a trigger pull away from dying was unbearable.
I tuned into Andre’s frequency. His face was difficult to read, but his face was not.
Do what we say, just bloody do what we say. I can’t loose you. Please.
Interesting – after all this and my blatant expressions of disdain toward him and he still pined for me. But more than that, his exhausted sounding head voice indicated he didn’t want a violent end for anyone.
“We have a predicament I’m afraid,” Jasper continued, “All we wanted was your best, brightest Clear and now all this – tsk, tsk. You love her, I take it?” He asked, glancing at Stuart who didn’t respond but shot a cold, hard stare at Jasper who shook his head slightly as if to brush him away like a fly. “At any rate, here’s my final offer. I take the girl…again…for good this time…and you all – will live.”
Then very suddenly Jasper took three long strides toward me, causing Stuart to jump up and lunge toward him as he closed in. But a thug grabbed and then hurled Stuart through the air. I watched him land in a crouched position a few yards away. In the meantime, Jasper now held a knife to my throat and I experienced the same sensation as during the long nights in Sarah’s dream. The others pointed guns at the group.
I managed to shift my eyes without moving a muscle so I could see Stuart, in the same position, his unblinking eyes fixed on the scene while contemplating his next m
ove.
Don’t bloody move.
You’re joking, right? Movement could lead to losing my head, so it was a given I would remain motionless.
“I’ve changed my mind…again,” Jasper said, “And they say women are bad. Layla, choose who dies before we leave.” The blade pricked my skin and I felt a small, light stream of warmth run down my neck.
Blood.
I felt Stuart wince.
I was too mortified to respond. We were officially dealing with a mad man, and I regretted pulling everyone to me when I could have just done this alone.
Stop it, Layla. Stuart’s eyes had ignited with flames. His head was slightly down, his eyes upward, ablaze, the intent to kill obvious. Choose me. Say you want them to take me, he sent.
No way!
Yes, do it! I can defend myself.
No. Freaking. Way!
“Choose damn it or I will!” Jasper was losing patience, and we were all losing time.
“Take me,” he said.
Oh god no, Stuart.
Jasper sighed; exasperated from the drama he was responsible for creating. “Fine.” He shoved me to the ground hard and unexpected, but I was able to catch myself before my forehead slammed into the concrete.
Jasper nodded to the thugs who wielded guns. They aimed at Stuart and fired.
Still on the ground, I yelled, “No please no!” But Stuart was gone – not gone as in dead, but gone like not in the vicinity. There was no sign of him, and no indication blood was spilled.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Jasper hit the ground – hard, a stream of blood instantly running downhill where he landed, the knife skidding away from him. I blinked and missed another fast-action Stuart maneuver. He swooped in from somewhere, but I didn’t catch the actual movement.
And before I think further, all hell broke loose.
Stuart moved diagonally through the air, kicking his heels into one of the thug heads whose gun went off before he was laid out horizontal. I heard Colin suck in air before he fell to the ground.
He was hit.
It all happened at once.
Jasper was up again. He fired at Stuart but the bullet shot through air, and Stuart vanished like vapor. I was trying to keep up – he had told me to follow his lead, but I wasn’t sure what to follow.
Vision Page 13
