by Cat Gilbert
The drop in my anxiety level was so unexpected, that I was momentarily stunned and I stumbled, my legs refusing to work as Hughes started to pull me toward the door. I quickly recovered my feet and looked up to see Jenny standing there with her arms wrapped tightly around my leather jacket, an encouraging, if fearful, smile on her lips.
“Here, Taylor, you’ll need this.” She shoved the coat at me, managing to give my hand a hard squeeze in the process.
“Did they find Dr. Connors?” I asked, dislodging Hughes’ hand and sliding into my jacket.
“No,” Hughes answered for her. “We haven’t and that’s why we’re moving you. The Agency’s been breached and we can’t keep you safe here.”
“What about Sean?” I stepped out of the room to find Lars standing at the ready, car keys in his hand. Whatever Hughes had in mind, Lars was coming along.
“Sean’s gone, Taylor,” Hughes said roughly. “He didn’t survive his injuries.”
Stunned, I whirled back to Jenny, the unspoken question in my eyes.
“He’s right, Taylor,” Jenny confirmed, sadness in her voice. “Where Sean is, no one can hurt him anymore.” Hughes hadn’t bothered to turn around when Jenny answered me, so he never saw the hatred in her eyes as she stared at his back. Nor did he see the cunning smile and knowing look she threw my way before she followed him out into the hallway.
I doubled over, my hands braced on my thighs for support, taking in deep breaths, as I absorbed what she’d just told me. Sean wasn’t dead, but Hughes didn’t know that. Wherever Jenny had stashed him, he was safe. For the second time that day, Jenny had surprised me. She was much more devious than I’d given her credit for.
“I’m sorry,” Hughes said, the toes of his shoes coming into sight. “I know you two were close, but we don’t have time for this. We have to move.”
I nodded and stood up, sniffling and wiping at my eyes as I moved away from him. Lars led the way down the hallway and I followed, Hughes bringing up the rear. I shuffled along, trying to look the very picture of misery. I turned around to see Jenny waving good bye from down the hall as the doors slid closed. Within seconds we were gone, speeding to the surface and whatever lay in wait beyond the gates of the Agency.
Lars was driving and Hughes took the seat next to him in the front, leaving the back seat free for me. I stared at the back of his head as we sped down the mountain in silence, wondering how he had become the monster he was. Was he born that way or had he, at some point in his life, stepped too far over the line and got sucked into the dark abyss of evil. Because there was no doubt in my mind that Hughes was evil.
The lights of Estes Park disappeared into the darkness behind us and the thought passed through me that somewhere back there, Mama D was praying for us all, praying for me, and the thought brought me immeasurable comfort. Tonight, God willing, it would be over. I could never put things back the way they were. I knew that. But maybe, just maybe, I could put things right. Dear God, don’t let me mess this up. Don’t let me be blinded by anger or hate. Please don’t let me lose control. I joined my voice with Mama D’s as we emerged from the mountains onto the plains that stretched far into the distance and prepared myself, the best I could, for the battle to come.
WHEN WE FINALLY arrived, I knew we had moved up to a whole new level. Technically, it was just another warehouse, but that was the only similarity it had to the last place Hughes had used. This one sat separately, isolated from the others by high walls topped with razor wire, a massive gate restricting not only who got in, but who got out as well. An important point in my case.
We waited as the gate opened and the guard waved us though. A lone lightbulb marked the single door entrance and Lars rolled to a stop next to it. Hughes got out and opened my door, standing silently while I got out and stretched, taking the opportunity to look around and get my bearings. It wasn’t good. Scattered lighting illuminated the wall and from what I could see, the only point of access was the main gate. There might be something in the back, but running behind a building without a sure way out wasn’t something I was willing to tackle. I couldn’t see any security cameras or alarms, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any.
“This is so much better than where you kept Dr. Brown, isn’t it, Hughes?” I asked, taking my time to survey the building. “Those walls are a real asset. Easier to secure. Which is good because you don’t have as many men at your disposal as you used to, do you?”
“You had help there,” he snapped out. My reference to his failed attempt in Little Rock had obviously irritated him. “You’re all alone this time.”
As if to prove his point, Lars opened his door and got out, drawing his gun out from under his jacket as he rounded the car and pointed it in my direction. The sight of the gun didn’t bother me as much as the cold look of determination in his eyes. A glimmer of doubt passed through me and I felt my heart skip a beat.
Had I misread him? Lars knew where Bryan and Candice were. Mac had told him. Told him how to convince me that he was on my side. What if the whole thing had been a sham? How did I know that Mac wasn’t working against me the whole time? How did I really even know if he was actually hurt? He could have been working for Hughes the whole time. What did I really know?
I heard the warehouse door open behind me, the light from inside casting long shadows around us.
“Put the gun down Lars. We don’t want any accidents, do we?” The bottom of my stomach dropped out at the sound of his voice and I froze, afraid to turn around and see what my gut was telling me was the truth.
“Hello darling.” His voice brought echoes of the past surging through my mind. I knew that voice better than I knew my own. It was the voice of love and security. The voice of happiness and tender moments. The day I realized I would never hear that voice again had been devastating, but it was nothing to what I was feeling now. The pain that ripped though me nearly brought me to my knees. Anything, anything, God, for this not to be true.
I braced myself, slowly turning to face him, and looked into the eyes of my dead husband. Shock left me speechless, unable to do anything but stare at the smiling face that mere moments ago I would have given anything to see again.
“What? No loving embrace for your husband, back from the grave?” He held out his arms as if he actually expected me to rush into them, assuming a hurt, pouting look on his face when I didn’t. I felt a tremble roll through me at his mocking words and Lars moved up so close behind me, I could practically feel his heartbeat through the back of my shirt.
“Inside. Now,” he ordered, dropping his arms, apparently tired of the game. Lars shoved me forward and I stumbled, barely managing to stay on my feet. He grabbed me by the arm, hoisted me back up and pushed me through the door.
Once inside, Lars drug me over to a chair propped against the far wall and I collapsed onto it as he took up station next to me.
“Cuff her to the chair,” Hughes ordered. “We don’t want her to run.”
I offered no resistance as Lars grabbed my right wrist and clicked the cuff tightly around it.
“Snap out of it,” he hissed in my ear as he leaned past to latch the other end of the cuff to the chair back. I looked at him, dazed. I understood what he wanted, but couldn’t seem to muster the energy to do anything. I felt dead, my arms and legs heavy, as if I was drowning, my brain fogged over in mist.
“Taylor.” It was Keith. His voice sounded like he was underwater, where he was supposed to be, instead of standing in front of me. I easily tuned it out, along with everything else, and stared at the floor, safe in the cocoon of nothingness that I’d retreated to. I was so tired of dealing with all this, and I so didn’t want to deal with him and all the things his being here meant. I didn’t even want to think about it.
The slap sent me out of the chair and onto the floor and I looked up to see Hughes, standing over me, a smile on his face as he drew back to hit me again. My right hand might have been cuffed to the chair, but there was nothing wrong with m
y left and I put everything behind it as I came up on my feet and caught Hughes in the throat with my fist. He went down like a sack of potatoes, gasping for air, as Lars stepped quickly between us effectively stopping either of us from doing anymore damage.
He grabbed the chair and sat it down hard enough to smash it and shoved me down on it, while Hughes rolled over onto his hands and knees, struggling to get to his feet. I watched him as blood dripped from my chin, my feet braced to move as soon as he came at me again.
As he gained his feet, I wrapped my cuffed hand around the metal frame of the chair and waited. No way was he going to hit me again.
“Enough!” Keith barked the command, stopping Hughes in his tracks. “You should have learned the first time Hughes. Why don’t you make yourself useful and go get Dr. Connors.”
Hughes threw a threatening look my way and I had no doubt that if he got the chance later, he’d finish what he’d started. I hoped he didn’t get the chance. I’d gotten in a lucky hit. He’d be ready the next time and I doubted I’d get that lucky again. I used my sleeve to wipe the blood off my face as he stormed out the door we had come through and slammed it shut in a fury.
“Get her a towel and some ice,” Keith ordered, looking at me in disgust.
Lars hesitated, giving me a warning look before he walked off, disappearing behind some crates.
“You’ve been a lot of trouble, Taylor. A lot of trouble.” He walked over to a table that was set up against a concrete column and poured himself a cup of coffee. He lifted the lid to the box of donuts and perused the contents for a few minutes, before deciding against one. “Let’s hope you’re worth it.”
I sat quietly watching him, trying to reconcile the man I knew with the one standing in front of me now. The problem was, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever really known him. I had the sinking feeling the man I thought I knew was one that had never actually existed.
Lars came back with a bag of ice and a cool wet towel. I took it and wiped my face, putting pressure on the cut Hughes had gouged along my cheekbone. My eye felt puffy and I could feel the skin tightening around it. Hughes had gotten me good, completely off guard.
“Guess that depends on how much they’re paying you, doesn’t it.” I removed the towel and checked to see if the bleeding had stopped. It hadn’t, but it had slowed down enough for me to put ice on it. I refolded the towel to a clean spot, filled it with ice and settled it gently in place.
“Ah. She finally talks. And that’s what you want to know? Your dead husband suddenly turns up and all you want to know is how much they’re paying me? Fascinating. But then you always were a little odd.” He drained his coffee and threw the cup across the room to bank it off the wall into a waste basket. So calm. So cool. So alive.
“I’d be interested in that answer myself.” I looked up to see Dr. Connors come into the room, Hughes trailing close behind him. “What is the going rate on betraying the woman you love these days?”
“Not much, Connors. The people I work for don’t put much value on love. But then again, you’re assuming that I actually ever loved her.” He looked at me as he said it, wanting to see if his barb had hit the mark. “Keep him over there, Hughes. I don’t want them too close together.”
Hughes pushed Connors down to sit on the floor as far away from me as he could get him and stay in the same general area. How Hughes was able to touch him and not feel the power emanating from him was beyond me. I could feel it now, a snapping current in the air, and I was nowhere near him.
“If that’s true, Keith, then why the charade?” I asked, not bothering to look at him. “Why marry me at all?” The words were so calm and detached that I could barely believe that I’d voiced them.
“We needed your ability to surface, Taylor. Intense emotional traumas can trigger a psychic response. What could be more traumatic than the sudden death of your husband? Unless, of course, you consider the unexpected, violent death of your parents. Such a tragedy. And at such a tender young age, too.”
I lowered the ice pack to look at him, the unspoken question in my eyes. He smiled back at me, slowly nodding his head, and I felt the first stirrings of anger.
FORTY-ONE
“WHAT YOU’RE IMPLYING is impossible, Keith. My parents were killed over 25 years ago and you’re trying to tell me you were involved in that?”
“You don’t understand yet, do you Taylor? I’m only a small part of a much bigger picture. They’ve been watching you for years, waiting for your talent to show itself. When it didn’t, they decided to help it along. Unfortunately, you were too young. Abilities like yours either present at an extremely early age, or they lay dormant until maturity. It was a mixed blessing really. The dormant ones are usually much more powerful, but they needed to provide you the most natural environment possible to ensure your potential.” He laughed as he said it, like it was all some big joke. “Imagine their dismay at having killed your parents only to have to find someone willing to give up their life to tend to your upbringing and keep an eye on you. Your father was an only child, Taylor. Your dear Aunt Vivian was one of ours. That’s how I know you so well, you see. I studied the reports on you that she sent in daily. Makes for some fascinating reading.”
He went over to pour himself another cup of coffee, creating a dramatic pause. If an audience was what he wanted, he’d certainly gotten his wish. The room was silent, save for the non-stop wheezing of Hughes, struggling for air. That he wasn’t quite finished was obvious. Every muscle I had, quivered in tension, waiting.
“What’s wrong Taylor? Nothing to say? You want some proof?” He smiled maliciously and I knew this was what he’d been waiting for. He pulled out a cell and flipped it open, watching me as he thumbed the speed dial. He spoke into it and snapped it shut, leaning back against the table, coffee in hand.
“Keep your eyes peeled in that direction,” he said, pointing toward the crates where Lars had disappeared earlier. “Your proof is about to walk right in.”
I looked in spite of myself, not sure of what to expect, but fearing the worst. His whole story was so preposterous, and yet, he seemed so sure. Took such delight in reciting it. We waited in silence. In the distance I heard the echo of a door closing and felt my heart rate speed with each second of the clock.
And then there she was. Walking out from behind the crates as if it was yesterday. My breath caught and my hands began to tremble as she walked into the room. Aunt Vivian. The woman who raised me after my parents were killed. The woman I’d buried nearly 10 years ago.
“Looks like the night for miracles. First your husband, then your Aunt. Wonder who’ll show up next.” Keith chuckled, as Vivian walked over to join him and poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Don’t get your hopes up, Taylor,” she said as she lifted the cup to her lips, blowing to cool the hot brew. “I’m afraid your parents won’t be joining us.”
Anger surged, slipping through me like flames, reaching out into the warehouse, shaking the metal doors and shifting the crates in their stacks before I pulled it back inside me.
“So, Marcus was right,” Keith whispered, a smug if satisfied smile across his face. “It’s there, just under the surface. Waiting.”
“Yes, he was. Good to know he was right about something,” Vivian agreed as she came over to look at me like I was a specimen in the jar. “Make sure you keep her under control. Drug her if necessary, but I don’t want any trouble. I’ll tell them to get the plane ready.”
She dismissed me with a look and walked out of the room, leaving me shaken to the core. Keith had been telling the truth about Vivian. If the rest of what he had said was true, I’d been manipulated by these people for most of my life and I had a bad feeling I’d just let them manipulate me again. They’d wanted to see if Marcus was right, whether my ability had indeed surfaced. Keith had been pushing my buttons all evening and the battle with Hughes? I’d answered his attack with my fist, instead of with my mind. They’d finally brought in the big guns with Vivian,
trying to push me to the edge, so I’d lose control and confirm what Marcus had told them, and I’d handed it to them on a silver platter. How much of what Keith claimed was true, I had no way of knowing, but the fact that Vivian was alive and well, was a shock. That she seemed to be higher in the pecking order than Keith, an even bigger one.
“Here’s how it’s going to be, Taylor,” he talked to me, but I noticed he kept his distance. “You cause anymore trouble and Hughes here, is going to take it out on Dr. Connors.”
Maybe the shock was wearing off or I’d been hit so many times, I was becoming immune to it, but my brain was at least starting to function again. If I didn’t pull it together, people were going to get killed. People I cared about.
“Taylor!” Keith shouted angrily, causing me to flinch. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
He’d never raised his voice to me, the entire time I’d known him, let alone yell at me. He was yelling at me now and the effect, I could guarantee, was not the one he was going for. This was not the man I’d married, the man I loved. That man was indeed dead, if he’d ever really existed at all.
This was my enemy. I had been running from that fact since I first saw him, but now it took hold in my brain with undeniable resolve. This man thought he had control over me, but he was wrong. He had no idea what power I held. How strong I was. I had forgotten that, in my initial shock, but I sure remembered it now. I looked over at Hughes and Connors, and decided I was done being manipulated.
“What makes you think I care?” I answered him, keeping my voice one of defeat and despair. “For all I know, he works for you. How do I know he isn’t just another Dr. Brown?”
The exhaustion I was feeling from being on an emotional roller coaster most of the night, lent credence to my words and I saw a flicker of doubt in his face before he turned to Hughes in question.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hughes croaked out, barely able to talk. “You think Brown worked for us?”
