Ben nodded. “The Skaggs certainly make a perfect scapegoat. We all suspected them.”
“Then the Skaggs didn’t blow up the café,” Milly concluded.
“No, they didn’t,” I replied. Micah had been trying to tell me that on the day of the café bombing.
My breath caught in my chest. Micah. He’d been standing in front of the stage right before the explosion. A wave of nausea hit me so hard I thought I might be sick.
Milly saw it on my face. “Sera? What is it?”
“We need to tell Praetor Stanislov what we know,” David stated. “If we tell him about the Spathi, he’ll release Grandpa.”
I pulled my thoughts together and tried to focus. “Why would he think Grandpa blew up the stage?”
“Because he knows your list was a fake, Sera!” David snapped. “He thinks Grandpa had all the Skaggs brought up onstage so he could blow them sky-high!”
My heart sank. Our list hadn’t fooled the praetor at all.
A hard knock sounded on the door. Tim and Jude readied their weapons, then Ben pulled open the door. When I saw Micah standing there, looking haggard but safe, it took everything I had not to run into his arms.
I got to my feet. “You’re okay.”
His eyes locked with mine, his expression hollow—haunted. Something was wrong.
“What do you want?” David snarled.
“They’re going to execute him,” Micah rasped. “They’re going to execute your grandfather.”
I dropped back down to the sofa.
The room fell silent. We were all too stunned to move. Finally, Milly put her face in her hands and started to cry. Jude crossed the room to put his arm around her shoulders.
“Well, of course they’re going to execute him!” David exploded. “They think he’s a damn terrorist because of that stupid fake list!”
I rubbed at the ache in my forehead. I needed to think.
“We need a plan,” Tim said.
David snorted. “Because your plans have worked out so well up to this point.”
“Here’s a plan,” Ben announced. “We call back the 1st Cascade, march into city hall, and kill every last damn blue coat we see.”
Jude shook that off. “They’ll only send more.”
Milly sniffled and hiccupped. “We can’t just…just sit here and do nothin’.”
David grabbed his coat off the chair.
I straightened. “Where are you going?”
“To talk to Praetor Stanislov.”
Micah blocked the door. “That’s a bad idea.”
David glared murderously up at him. “Get out of my way.”
“They’ve imposed a curfew,” Micah told us all. “Anybody caught out after dark will be arrested on sight.”
“Then I won’t be seen,” David gritted out.
I shook my head. “David, the praetor is smart. He’ll talk you in circles.”
“Why,” he sneered, “because he talked you in circles?”
Ben looked flabbergasted. “Why do you have to be such an ass all the time?”
“Because,” Tim responded, looking gloomy. “Double D is only on the side of Double D.”
David jeered at him. “When I need a hick’s opinion, I’ll ask Milly.”
Jude lunged toward him, but Milly took his hand and steadied him.
“David,” I began, “Grandpa made it very clear that we shouldn’t underestimate the praetor.”
“Sera, the praetor is just a man, a man who can be reasoned with like any other man.” He turned for the door.
“Fine,” I stood up again. “I’m going with you.”
Micah vetoed that immediately. “Absolutely not.”
I pulled on my coat. “If we’re not back in two hours, I want every one of you out of town before dawn. Find the 1st Cascade and stay put.”
Ben nodded. I knew he’d follow orders and make sure the others did, too.
“Seraphina, this is crazy,” Micah pleaded. “At least talk with Deputy Hester. Or Charlie Eagle.”
I gave him a hard look. “They’re dead.”
That knocked the wind out of him. Of course he didn’t know. He’d been too busy making friends with the people who’d killed them.
David laughed at the shocked look on Micah’s face. “She doesn’t need you anymore, Abrams. She’s replaced you with an M16.” He marched past Micah and out the front door.
I grabbed my little Derringer from the table by the window and stuffed it into the back waistband of my pants. “Remember what I said. Two hours.”
Refusing to even look at Micah, I followed David outside. The sun was already low in the sky. It would be dark soon.
“Seraphina, wait.”
I stopped on the walk. When I thought he’d been killed by the stage bomb, I’d been hit with a kaleidoscope of feelings—some I was too afraid to name. I wasn’t sure I trusted myself to look at him now.
“It’s not like you to just charge in without thinking things through,” he said.
Against my better instincts, I turned. The fear and concern on his face grabbed hold of my heart and made me doubt my determination to resist him. I reminded myself of his betrayal and threw his own words back at him.
“You’re judging things you can’t possibly understand, Micah.”
I ignored the hurt look on his face and hurried after my brother.
It was a two-mile walk from our house to city hall. The streets were infested with blue coats, so David and I stuck to the alleys. In the cold, gloomy night, the smoke and smell from the stage explosion still hung in the air. I could hear the stomping of soldiers’ feet as they marched in formation nearby. Were they preparing for an occupation? The stage explosion had given the praetor just the excuse he needed to take the town.
David had no idea what he was about to come up against.
“Stay impersonal,” I counseled. “You don’t want him in your head. Stick with yes and no answers—”
“You’re being ridiculous, Sera. I’m a gifted debater and Praetor Stanislov isn’t the three-headed ogre you and the others make him out to be. Mark my words, Grandpa will be coming home tonight.”
A four-man guard detail paced the street in front of city hall. We couldn’t possibly avoid them, so we approached with our hands in the air, hoping we could plead ignorance about the curfew Micah had mentioned.
“Good evening,” David called out.
They responded to our greeting with the barrels of four automatic weapons.
“Keep your hands in the air,” David whispered to me, “and don’t make any sudden moves. I’m David Donner,” he called out to the guards, “and this is my sister, Sera. We would like to speak with Praetor Stanislov if that is at all possible.”
A very large soldier separated himself from the shadows surrounding the coal miners’ memorial. George, the praetor’s personal guard, barked out some orders in German, then two other soldiers came forward and took hold of us. They escorted us into the rotunda, where we were thoroughly patted down. They confiscated my Derringer. I noted that the flag of Europa—an enormous one—now hung on the wall in place of the governor of Washington’s portrait.
George led us up the marble staircase to the offices on the second floor. He ushered us into the mayor’s office, where the blood of Frank Skaggs still stained the hardwood floor, and then into the room beyond.
It became immediately clear that the praetor had taken over the mayor’s suite as his personal living quarters. Another Europa flag stood in the corner, a watercolor portrait of Stanislov himself hung over the fireplace, and a quote had been stenciled in big black letters on the wall in front of us.
He who is prudent and lies in
wait for an enemy who is not,
will be victorious.
The praetor entered the room, carrying a snifter of brandy, his surviving white wolf following in step behind him. A brief scowl darkened his face, but then it instantly transformed into a broad smile. “Stupendous. I certainly did not
expect to have such wonderful company tonight. Please. Come. Sit down.”
We sat on one of the matching red leather sofas.
“It’s good to see you are both well after today’s horrible tragedy.” He sat on the opposite sofa, with a coffee table between us and his wolf at his feet.
“We’re pleased you’re safe as well,” David replied.
One of us was pleased, anyway.
“Thank you, David. You are lovely children. Although, I must admit, I am a little surprised to see you both. This seems to be a job for someone a bit older than yourselves.”
A plate of butter cookies sat in the center of the coffee table and my eyes kept wandering back to it. It had been a long time since I’d had a cookie.
The praetor eyed me over the edge of his brandy snifter. “Sera. Stop staring. Try one.”
“No. Thank you.”
He rolled his eyes at David as if they were old buddies sharing a private joke. “Come now, Sera. Coyness has its merits, but it does grow tiresome after a while.” He leaned forward and pushed the plate toward me. “Both of you. Have one. They’re delicious.”
Before I could decline again, David reached out and took a cookie. He picked up the plate and held it out to me. I stared at him, making my disapproval obvious. He wasn’t going to follow any of my suggestions at all.
I accepted the plate from him and set it back on the table without taking a cookie.
The praetor chuckled at David. “Women.” Suddenly he sat forward on the sofa. “Oh, my goodness, where are my manners?”
He turned to George, who was standing nearby. “George, bring our guests some lemonade.”
Lemonade? “No. No, thank you,” I heard myself say.
The praetor shook his head, disappointed. “Good heavens.”
“I’d love some,” my brother piped up.
I scowled in response.
The praetor almost spit out his brandy laughing. “Oh, my dear, don’t be too hard on your brother. Men are notorious pushovers when it comes to food and drink. George, some water for the lady and a tall glass of lemonade for this fine young man right here.” He looked at me. “I trust that a glass of water won’t be too much of a concession for you?”
My scowl deepened and he only laughed harder. I was tempted to accept the lemonade after all, but George disappeared before I could make up my mind one way or the other.
“Now. Let us get down to business, shall we?” He looked back and forth between us, his brows raised, and I held my breath. “There is the little matter of your grandfather. I’m sure that’s why you are both here tonight?” He crossed his legs.
I nodded silently.
David crossed his short legs, mirroring the praetor. “Yes, sir. We were hoping to talk with you about that.”
George reappeared with a glass of water for me and a frosty glass of lemonade for David. David smiled as he took his first sip. I wanted to reach over and slap him.
“How is it?” the praetor asked him.
“Perfect.”
“Not too tart?”
David shook his head. “And not too sweet.”
“Excellent. It’s my mother’s recipe.”
David smiled. “Your mother is a saint.”
The praetor laughed. “That she is.”
Their blossoming friendship was too much for my empty stomach. I snatched a cookie from the plate and chewed it up without even tasting it. Try as I might, I could not picture this man with a mother. Weren’t people like Stanislov made in laboratories somewhere, like other poisonous things?
The praetor’s smile slipped. “You do realize your grandfather is being held on charges of murdering several of your own citizens in addition to three of my guards. Not to mention my poor Hati.”
“He was a beautiful animal,” David said solemnly.
I leaned back into the sofa, suddenly realizing I was nothing but a spectator watching two expert manipulators test each other’s skills.
“Skoll and Hati were born on Ellesmere Island,” the praetor told us, “in the far north, above Canada, not far from the Arctic Circle. The area is remote and usually completely encircled by pack ice, so the wolves have no experience with man or his violent, oppressive nature. They are quite curious and tolerant of us; their loyalty and ferocity cannot be matched.” He rubbed Skoll’s massive head. “Hati once tore out the throat of a young soldier who simply touched the sleeve of my jacket.”
Looking into the wolf’s black and amber eyes, I imagined him tearing out a man’s throat. He bared his teeth at me and a shudder raced up my spine.
“It is best not to look him in the eye, Sera,” the praetor warned. “Now.” He clapped his hands and I almost jumped out of my skin. “I’m afraid your grandfather is a convicted terrorist and there is very little I can do about that.”
I scowled. “Convict—”
“That’s why we’re here,” David interrupted. “There are rumors….”
“Rumors?” The praetor leaned forward, arching a brow. “What kind of rumors?”
“About a resistance movement.”
The praetor sputtered dramatically. “The Skaggs are no more. What on earth could anybody be resisting?”
“There’s a God-worshipping hate group in the area that detests everything that has anything to do with the betterment of society.”
“God?” he snorted. “How quaint.”
“They call themselves the Spathi.”
The praetor smirked. “Spear of God. Clever.”
“We think the ‘S’ that was painted at the café and on the park gazebo stands for Spathi,” David concluded.
The praetor smirked. “Because we all know it doesn’t stand for Skaggs, don’t we? Why would they blow themselves up? It was very clever of your grandfather to give me a fake list, by the way.”
“He’s old and tends to be suspicious of change,” David replied.
I clenched my teeth, forcing myself not to respond to David’s remark.
“Nonsense,” the praetor waved him off. “I would have done exactly the same thing. I’m embarrassed that I didn’t realize it until after the explosion. Now, if what you say is true, then we must ferret out these terrorists before they strike again.”
“That would be wonderful,” David replied. “But no one has any idea where to find them.”
Enough about the Spathi. “Sir,” I interjected. “About our grandfather?”
“Yes, of course.” He paused. “I must admit, I am relieved by your news of these Spathi. The idea that your grandfather would participate in such a heinous crime did come as a bit of a shock to me. He seems like such a sensible man. What could a man possibly gain by doing this? I asked myself that very question. Does Mark Donner really hate progress that much? Does Mark Donner really hate me that much? Tell me, what does your father think of all this?”
That odd question even silenced my brother; David’s mouth slammed shut.
“Our father?” I asked.
“Yes,” the praetor replied. “Your father, Jason Donner. He’s done some astounding work with the human genome. Fascinating stuff. I read all about his cure for your condition in Scientific American. He is literally hoping to turn David into Goliath. It is poetic—almost lyrical. I would love to meet him.”
David and I exchanged a look.
David shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir, but our father was in Seattle during the quake. He…he was lost with the city.”
The praetor grimaced. “Now that is a shame. Because, you see, your father…he would be the perfect man to negotiate your grandfather’s release tonight.” He stared at us for a long moment, then flashed his smile. “But c’est la vie. Based on your information about the Spathi, I must reconsider the charges against Mark Donner.”
Relief flooded through me. Could it be that easy? Was the praetor a reasonable man after all?
“Thank you,” David said.
“Yes,” I said, then reluctantly added, “Thank you.”
The praetor
shrugged. “It’s the right thing to do. But.” He gave us a wry grin and shook his finger at us. “If I am scratching your back, then you must be scratching mine.”
I went cold. I’d forgotten about the price tag. What would it be this time? A promise? A secret? Another list?
David was foolishly unfazed. “Name it.”
The praetor laughed. “Oh, I like you, David! So much arrogance and self-assurance in such a tiny little package.”
David twitched, though his smile never faltered.
“I guess size really doesn’t matter,” the praetor quipped. He laughed so hard at his own joke that Skoll shifted nervously beside him.
Normally David would have skewered anyone who dared to say something so inappropriate to him, but now, for the sake of our grandfather, he had to sit there and take it.
The praetor finally sobered and wiped his eyes. “Ah, we have enjoyed this visit, eh Skoll?” He patted the wolf on the head. “I will not execute your grandfather. And, in return, the two of you will find me the leader of this terrorist group.”
David blinked. “You want us to find the Spathi leader?”
I knew exactly what the praetor was asking and I suddenly realized that Micah had been right. Coming here had been a serious mistake.
“That’s impossible,” David added. “I told you, nobody knows where they are.”
“You will bring me the person responsible for bombing my Welcome Festival and then I will let your grandfather go free.”
A vise squeezed my heart. He had given us an impossible task. We hadn’t won at all.
“You have one week,” the man continued.
“But what if we can’t find their leader?” David asked.
“Then, my dears,” said the praetor, rubbing the wolf’s ears. “I am terribly afraid that I will have to shoot your grandfather.”
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, I woke to the dull sound of a distant explosion rattling my bedroom window. Milly and I joined the boys in the front yard to see a fireball blazing on the western horizon. The Spathi had struck again. This time, they’d bombed a barracks full of Europa soldiers. Although I had no sympathy for the praetor and his men, everything the Spathi did would be blamed on Grandpa Donner. We had to find out where the religious fanatics were holed up and put an end to this before it was too late.
The Goliath Code (The Alpha Omega Trilogy) Page 17
