Masks and Mirrors: Book Two: The Weir Chronicles

by Sue Duff

  Saxon snorted.

  “Get Ian on the phone,” Tara said, dropping a few car lengths behind Donovan’s Mercedes. “Tell him about the newest snag.”

  “Other than Donovan showing up, what else is there?” Pat-rick said, pulling out his phone.

  “That Donovan might be carrying a gun.”

  {29}

  What are they up to? Jaered had pondered the possibilities ever since spying Patrick and Tara hanging out in the parking lot at the children’s playground. When they followed Donovan’s car, the questions swelled.

  Donovan pulled up to the entrance to the emergency room. The small interior parking lot was packed with cars. He swerved back around and stopped across from the doors. His wife got out and gathered the boy into her arms, but not before grabbing a shopping bag. Donovan yelled something to her and took off with squealing tires.

  The second he pulled out of the inner lot and entered the multilevel parking garage across the street, the young mother disappeared inside the hospital.

  Jaered swerved in ahead of another car and grabbed a choice parking spot along the curb. Fingers shot into the air, compliments of the elderly couple waiting with their blinker flashing. Jaered ignored them when he got out. He crossed the street and followed Donovan’s wife inside.

  Carlene Donovan stopped at the reception counter and set her shopping bag down. She attempted to get the nurse’s attention. From over her shoulder, the boy turned his face toward Jaered.

  There wasn’t any sign of pain in the child’s expression. Jaered’s curiosity heightened. If he wasn’t injured, what brought them here?

  His mother leaned in and whispered something to him. Bryant buried his face in her shoulder.

  The packed waiting room harbored coughing, anxious whispers and bored or irritated expressions. A couple of boys with bloody bandages held to their noses were being escorted down a back hall. Playground brawl, Jaered mused.

  Too late, the harried staff had underestimated another child in crisis. Retching set the waiting room into chaos mode. The nurses rushed to deal with the spewing lunch.

  “I was told to ask for Margaret,” Donovan’s wife said.

  The frantic nurse paused. “Oh, right. She’s been expecting someone. The nurse peered at the mess in the middle of the waiting room and bit her lip. “I should escort you back, but I’m shorthanded at the moment. If you would, just go through the double doors behind me and head all the way to the back examination booth on the left. I’ll let Margaret know you’re here.

  A raven-haired woman in a nurse’s smock walked past Jaered. She grabbed the bag’s stiff handle and took Donovan’s wife by the elbow. “Here, I’ll take you back.” They disappeared through the double-wide doors.

  The wife entered a curtained booth. The raven-haired nurse stepped in behind her and shut the curtain.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of frantic steps. Donovan burst into the waiting room and looked about. Jaered turned back and focused on pinpointing into which booth the young mother and boy had gone, when three other nurses dressed in identical smocks entered or exited the nearby curtained exam areas. Their identical raven-colored hair brought his thoughts to an abrupt halt.

  “Hey!” Donovan grabbed the receptionist by the arm when she didn’t look up. “I don’t see my wife and son. They came in here a couple of minutes ago. He hurt his arm.”

  “I’ll help you in a minute. Let me finish taking care of this first,” she said, cupping the sick child’s chin. He opened his mouth and gagged as if he was gearing up for round two.

  Donovan gave a rough jerk to her arm. “You’ll help me now. Where did they go?”

  “Sir I understand you’re worried, but no one’s come in with serious injuries in the past several minutes. As soon as housekeeping gets here, I’ll find out where they are.”

  “My wife’s name is Carlene Donovan, my son’s name is Bryant. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt with red, white, and blue stripes. He’s not quite three.”

  The nurse paused. “No one’s been admitted by that name.” She pulled her arm out of his grasp and returned to the child.

  Donovan stared as though confused. He wandered the room. When he spied Jaered next to the doors, Donovan settled within earshot. “Did you see her come in?” he said under his breath.

  “They’re in one of the examination booths just ahead.” Jaered stepped away from the doors.

  Donovan sauntered over and stole a glance through the window. “I don’t want you pulling anything in front of my son. I’ll see if I can separate them, send her to retrieve something in the car. The second you get the opportunity, you take care of her. This place will give me the alibi I need.”

  Tara gave Bryant a wink. “Carlene, you can keep him on your lap.” Tara removed the neon green gauze from its pack-aging, then pushed the cart closer and sat on the stool across from them.

  Carlene put headphones on her son and let him play with an app on her phone. She bounced Bryant on her knees. “I didn’t know what to do when he insisted on coming to the park.”

  Tara gave her a relaxed smile. “You’ve done great so far.”

  “He’s going to storm back here any second. How can Ian pull this off with Richard this close?”

  “There was always a chance he might be having you fol-lowed. Ian’s allowed for that.”

  “You don’t know my husband. His son is his world. Richard controls everything where Bryant’s concerned, even choosing our pediatrician. He’s never let me take Bryant to any medical appointments without him coming, too.” Carlene startled when a child cried out across the way.

  “Have faith in Ian.” Tara placed a gentle hand on Carlene’s leg. The bouncing came to a halt.

  “I all better,” Bryant insisted, louder than necessary. He waved his arm. “See?”

  “I’m sorry I pinched you so hard, Bry,” Carlene said and gave Tara a knowing look.

  Tara removed one of Bryant’s earbuds. “I know you’re not hurt, but my face is.” She made a silly face. He smiled. He pushed away from his mother’s chest and sat up straight when Tara held up a sucker. “Bry, do you know how to disappear?”

  He nodded and held his hands in front of his eyes. When he pulled them away, he giggled.

  “Good job.” Tara unwrapped the promised sucker. “Now, I’m going to show you a new way.”

  {30}

  Jaered put some distance between him and Donovan. He didn’t believe anything could exceed the man’s ego, but the longer the nurse kept him waiting, rage was about to top the list. If Donovan didn’t pull himself together, he’d be shown the door. Housekeeping arrived and took over in the waiting room. Security joined the party. The nurse nodded in Donovan’s direction, then sat at her computer, scrolling as if searching for something.

  It had struck Jaered that Donovan might want to be re-membered, to solidify his alibi. Whatever unnerved the man, felt like something more.

  The nurse looked up at the security guards and shook her head.

  “What the hell?” Donovan pushed through the double doors and rushed down the emergency exam room hall.

  “Stop, you don’t have authorization,” the nurse yelled. Security took off after Donovan. Jaered lent a hand and held the door open, then slipped in behind them.

  “Bryant!” Donovan called out. “Carlene, where are you?”

  A raven-haired nurse stepped out of a stall halfway down, and headed in the opposite direction. She cradled a boy. Bry-ant’s striped sleeve and forearm drooped over her shoulder. A bright green cast covered it.

  Security grabbed Donovan. “Wait!” He yelled. But the nurse exited through a far door without turning around. “That’s my son. Where is she taking him?”

  “Look, calm down, buddy. Let’s find your wife. I’m sure she knows,” one of the guards said.

  Donovan stopped struggling. When they let go, he pulled the curtain to the side. The stall was empty. “What the hell? Where’s my wife?”

  Jaered stoppe
d a passing nurse. “Where does that lead?” He pointed at the far door where the nurse took the child.

  “The auditorium,” she replied. “There’s a magic show if you’re interested.”

  {31}

  Ian revealed the coin to the boy, then held it high for all to see. Applause from the audience drowned out the child’s squeal.

  A pale girl, no more than six, leaned heavily on a metal walker beside the boy. Ian’s heart leapt out to the frail child, and he crouched down. He looked past the emaciated cheeks and dark tones around her eyes and was touched by her aura. It revealed incredible, inner strength. “What is your favorite color?”

  “Blue,” she said, but then giggled. “No, yellow.”

  He tapped her nose affectionately, then reached into his closed fist. “Since you can’t decide, how about both?” Ian pulled out a baby-blue scarf with yellow polka dots.

  Gasps and applause filled the small auditorium.

  Rayne tied the girl’s dark hair back with the scarf. She helped the child to her front-row seat, but first caught Ian’s attention with a tilt of her head.

  He hardly recognized Tara with her snowy hair tucked up inside the ebony wig. The loose nurse’s uniform hid her petite frame. She walked down the aisle heading toward the stage with the boy in her arms. Donovan appeared a couple of minutes later, trailing a couple of security guards. He paused at the sight of the nearly full crowd then followed the nurse, but the security guard held out his arm to block him. Donovan crossed his arms and stood at the rear of the auditorium.

  “Our time is almost up,” Ian announced. He cued Rayne and she lowered the stage lights.

  “Wait, what about my phone?” One of the teen volunteers stood in the second row. “You made it disappear, remember? I’d like it back.”

  “Ah, yes, you broke the rules and brought it in with you.”

  She looked coy. “I just wanted a picture of you for my Instagram.”

  Ian held his chin in mock contemplation. “Where did it go?”

  A musical ring tone played from the person sitting directly in front of her. The startled man held up an empty water bottle. The phone rested inside.

  She grabbed the bottle. “Oh my god, how did you—”

  Thunderous applause erupted from the crowd. “I’m sure maintenance can help you extract it.” Ian stepped to the edge of the stage.

  Tara handed off the boy and disappeared behind the curtain at the back of the stage.

  “I have a helper for my next trick,” he said. “Let’s give him a round of applause.” Ian held the microphone to him. “How did you hurt your arm?”

  He shied away at first and looked out at the crowd, then leaned in and touched his lips to the microphone. “I fall down.” In spite of the microphone, his voice was barely above a whisper.

  Ian lifted his casted arm and turned it back and forth as though examining it. “Does it hurt?”

  The boy didn’t respond.

  He set the boy down on the stage and knocked on the cast. “You may not need it. I’ll take it off.”

  “No!” screamed a few of the children in the audience, and they shook their heads at the thought.

  “Perhaps you’re right. I should get a second opinion. Dr. Bailey,” Ian gestured to the pediatrician, “would you be so kind as to come and examine the cast for me?”

  She approached and ran her finger across the hard surface. “Is it really broken?” she asked under her breath.

  “No,” Ian hushed.

  “It can be removed,” Dr. Bailey proclaimed.

  Ian grasped the cast in both hands. “What do we say?”

  “Abracadabra!” screamed the crowd.

  “Abracadabra!” Ian shouted. A blinding burst of light. He stepped back holding the solid cast up high for all to see. The boy’s arm was bare.

  Squeals and laughter filled the room.

  “Dr. Bailey,” Ian held the cast toward her. “Would you make sure I removed it correctly?”

  The woman shook her head in disbelief as she confirmed the cast was still intact. “I could use you in my clinic,” she said and handed it back to him.

  Ian tossed the cast to Rayne and grabbed the boy’s hand. Ian bent over in an elaborate bow at the drawn-out applause. When the child didn’t join in, Ian bent him over and over in a comical gesture. Boisterous laughter rose from the seats. The curtain opened behind them and Tara wheeled a gurney to the center of the stage. A large rectangular box rested on top of it.

  “For my final trick of the afternoon, I will require my young helper one last time.” Ian grabbed the boy’s hand. “Let’s make sure it’s sturdy,” he said and knocked on the side panel. The boy slapped it with his hand. They continued all around the box, their knocks and slaps falling into rhythm.

  He opened the lid. “Are you ready?” Ian asked. The child didn’t respond but raised his hands to be picked up. Ian helped him climb inside. “Say good-bye,” Ian waved at the audience.

  “Good-bye,” the crowd responded with a sea of waving hands.

  The boy bent down and Ian closed the lid, latching its lever. He turned the gurney around in a circle, then stopped.

  “Audience, help me out here,” he said.

  “Abracadabra!” the children screamed.

  Ian waved his hands toward the box. “Abracadabra!”

  In a bright, green flash, the box collapsed. Its panels and the gurney folded in upon itself at his feet.

  The crowd went wild.

  Ian bowed. “You’ve been a great audience! Be safe and get well soon.” Ian smiled and stepped down into the pooling crowd.

  Donovan headed for the stage. “Where is he?” he hollered. The security guards were on his heels, but Ian raised his hand and they held back.

  “Do I know you?” Ian said. Rayne paused at collecting prop pieces on stage.

  “I’m Richard Donovan. We met at the charity event the other night,” he said. “JoAnna Langtree introduced us. What have you done with my son?”

  “How should I know?” Ian said. “I’ve never met him.”

  Donovan got in Ian’s face. “Don’t play games with me. You just made him disappear!”

  “Who’s missing?” Rayne asked.

  “My son, Bryant,” he snarled. “And Carlene.”

  “I’m here doing my monthly show,” Ian said. A door banged open at the rear of the auditorium. Ian paused at Margaret, the hospital liaison, stomping toward them. By the look on her face, she had no qualms about getting in the middle.

  “What is the meaning of this?” She approached the stage and gestured for the security guards to close ranks.

  “My son and his mother are missing,” Donovan said. “And he made them disappear.”

  “I’m afraid you don’t know what you saw.” Ian backed up toward the rear curtain. “No one’s disappeared.” He pulled the fabric aside to reveal Tara, still wearing the nurse’s uniform and wig. She bounced a young boy, similar to Bryant’s size and hair color, on her lap. He wore the same jeans and striped T-shirt as Bryant. Tara’s and the boy’s smile wilted at their grumpy audience.

  The fury in Donovan’s eyes remained. He regarded Ian with seething interest.

  Ian grew cautious at perhaps underestimating Donovan.

  “If you follow me, we’ll start back at the beginning,” Margaret said. “Let’s see exactly where they were admitted and who might have examined the child.”

  “Can I return him to his mother? She’s waiting over there.” Tara indicated an anxious-looking woman sitting in the front row.

  “Yes, of course,” Margaret said.

  Ian turned away. “Rayne, the rest of these go in the crate.” He indicated the last two panels. She picked them up from the stage and carried them to a large wooden box. She froze when Donovan stepped closer to Ian.

  “I don’t believe in coincidences,” Donovan said for Ian’s ears only. “You’ll regret getting involved.” He stared at Rayne. “Everyone has something to lose.”

  {3
2}

  Jaered gripped Ning’s neck from behind and leaned in. “Are you insane?” he hissed in the assassin’s ear. He’d found Ning seated in the farthest row from the stage, watching from the shadows. “Get the fuck out of here.”

  “I’m here on business.” Ning tilted his face to the side. “What are you doing here, son of Aeros?”

  Jaered watched the stage below and focused on cooling the center of his chest. Rayne held the side door open. Once Ian pushed the dolly through, she followed. The door slammed with a clang.

  Jaered had gone ballistic after receiving Eve’s late-night text. The book had been taken from the Heir’s estate and the rebels hadn’t reached the mansion in time to save the scholars. With the book out of the equation, Jaered wondered when Ning would show up to claim the only bargaining chip he had left. This bold move, even for Ning, was Jaered’s answer. The assassin would snag the slightest opening.

  “One phone call and my father’s wrath will swoop down on you,” Jaered said.

  “But you won’t make that call. You don’t dare.” Ning twisted in his seat and gave Jaered a shark tooth grin. “If you do, it might bring attention to her. You don’t want your father finding out about her. Why is that Jaered? Saving her for yourself? Or is there another reason you’re keeping her and her ability a secret?”

  Stunned, a retort didn’t make it to Jaered’s lips.

  Ning closed his eyes and breathed deep. “I can already hear the sizzle of her skin as it bubbles and blisters.” He pulled out his cell and swiped at the screen. “The friend has a naughty side to her. A shame, really, that she’s a human, and disposable.” Ning tilted the screen for Jaered.

  It was a picture of Rayne’s roommate, Zoe—her hair black as coal, with the college campus in the background.

  Donovan followed the woman from the hospital up the aisle, headed for the doors at the back of the auditorium. The CEO gave them a sideways glance, but kept walking. Jaered stiffened. Donovan didn’t look at him. He looked at Ning.