Powerless (Bird of Stone Book 3)

by Tracey Ward

  “Is this blowing anybody else’s mind?” Justin whispers when she’s gone, his eyes large as he looks at the buildings. At the sheer scope of Jonnie’s set up.

  Britta nods numbly. “So much, yeah. This is way bigger than I expected.”

  “How does she run all this by herself?”

  “How did she afford this?”

  “Don’t ask her,” I warn them with a grunt, tossing a bag at their feet. “She won’t answer.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” Britta promises.

  Justin snorts. “I was.” I cast him a withering glance. He puts his hands up in surrender. “But I won’t. I won’t. Jeez.”

  “We’re guests here,” Alex reminds everyone as she hops down out of the truck. “Let’s try really hard not to be rude, if we can.”

  I grin at her. “Why are you looking at me when you say that?”

  “Because I know you.”

  “I’ll be good as gold. I promise.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see,” she mumbles, hopping up onto the porch.

  Nick tosses me the last of the bags. He, Brody, and I join the rest of the crew on the porch hiding from the rain. It’s useless. Everyone is drenched to the bone, their hair clinging to their faces, their clothes a second, cold skin on their bodies. I was only out in it for a few minutes and I’m just as bad off as everyone else. There’s only so wet you can get before it doesn’t matter anymore. You’re wet. That’s it.

  Jonnie reappears looking soaked herself, a giant stack of taupe towels in her arms. “Here. Everyone get dried off as much as you can before you catch your death. Heat’s on inside but I’ll get a fire going in the living room here in a minute. When everyone gets out of their wet clothes, if you want to bring them downstairs to the mudroom behind the kitchen, I’ll get the dryer going.”

  “This is so nice of you,” Alex gushes, taking a towel gratefully. “Thank you.”

  Jonnie’s smile shivers, her eyes darting away from Alex’s. She’s uncomfortable. She’s not used to being surrounded by people and we’re not just people. We’re dangerous people who could be bringing even more danger to her door. I wonder if she regrets this yet. If she doesn’t, I don’t think it will be long before she does.

  “I hate to ask because we just invaded your house,” Gwen jokes weakly, “but when can we check on Liam again?”

  “I can go right now.”

  “No rush.”

  “Kind of a rush,” Nick counters apologetically. “We need to get him out of there before people start looking too deeply into who he is and how he got there.”

  Jonnie nods, handing the rest of the towels out to the group. She didn’t bring one for herself. Her hair drips onto the white boards under her feet that shift nervously. “I’ll go right now. Go inside. Make yourselves at home.” Her eyes land on me. “Can you start that fire for me?”

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure thing. Do you need any help with… you know?”

  “No,” she chuckles. “I can manage fine on my own.”

  “Right. Obviously.”

  Jonnie leaves, darting around the side of the house. She doesn’t go inside. She doesn’t go to the barn or the stables, and she definitely doesn’t leave her body alone with us while she projects herself to the hospital in New York. I have a pretty good idea where she did go; her panic bunker, wherever the hell that is. It’s probably the only place she feels comfortable leaving her body.

  “Should we go inside?” Justin asks.

  Alex wrinkles her nose unhappily. “I feel weird walking into her place without her here, dripping all over everything.”

  “She told us to go in,” Brody reminds her.

  “She’d feel weirder to come back and find us all standing here waiting for her,” I agree, heading for the door. “I’ll go first if it makes you feel better, SB. You can pretend you followed me in to make sure I don’t break anything.”

  “Or rummage through her underwear drawer,” she says seriously.

  “You make me sound like a pervert.”

  “Do you really not feel like one sometimes?”

  “Nope. I don’t feel much of anything most the time.”

  I step over the threshold into the large, open foyer. It’s all warm colors; glowing yellows and rich browns. Heavy, thick beams run along the tall ceilings and up the right wall to form a wide staircase flanked by black iron bars. A large, round chandelier hangs from the ceiling over our heads as we step dripping onto the pine wood floors and thick brown rug. On the left of the staircase is a hall leading to a kitchen that opens up to the living room at nine-o’clock. Immediately to my right on my three is a study or library. Both the study and the living room have huge stone fireplaces that mirror each other across the house, both blackened inside and empty. Cold.

  I rub my hair briskly with my towel as I head for the living room.

  “Where are you going?” Alex asks apprehensively.

  “To light the fire like she asked me to.” I toss my towel onto the stone hearth. “Don’t worry, SB. I won’t burn the place down.”

  “Should we light both of them?” Justin asks, eyeing the library.

  “Might as well. She wasn’t kidding. It’s cold in here.”

  “She probably keeps to one room at a time,” Brody guesses. “Maybe lights a fire in the morning to burn off the chill in the house but then conserves her firewood.”

  I nod in agreement, thinking he would know. He lived alone like this for years before we found him. Well, not like this. He lived in a farmhouse in Oregon. This is a serious mansion with more room than one person could ever need. As I pull logs from the tower next to the fireplace, I glance around at the living room. It’s perfectly decorated and dusted, but untouched. No rings on the coffee table. No butt imprints on the brown suede couches. She doesn’t come into this room very much. I’d guess there’s a smaller one somewhere that she feels more comfortable. A bedroom or an office where she breathes easier.

  I hear our group wandering slowly around, hesitantly investigating. Across the foyer Justin and Nick are starting another fire as Alex looks on, Nick talking to Justin quietly as he teaches him how to best stack the logs. Brody and Beck hit the kitchen to check the food situation. Gwen collapses into a wooden chair at the long table, quickly joined by Britta, Trina, and Stewart. Everyone is visually and audibly accounted for, except for Naomi. Her I feel. She’s in the living room with me, watching me, and I wish to God she wasn’t. Maybe it’s being out of her comfort zone or maybe she’s worried about her brother, but she’s broadcasting. Hard. My stomach rolls violently as her power washes over me in soft, persistent waves. It’s hard to breathe. Hard to think. My temper starts to rise, my fingers shaking slightly as I try to strike a match against the side of the box.

  I fail three times before I slump my shoulders, glancing back at her. “You wanna knock that off?”

  “Who are you talking to, Campbell?” Alex calls.

  I nod to Naomi. She meets my eyes without feeling. “I’m talking to Tim Burton over here. She’s got her freak on full and it’s messing with my head.”

  Alex takes a step closer, her face painted with disgust. “Campbell. Take it easy.”

  “Tell her that.”

  “She’s not doing anything. She’s just standing there.”

  “You really don’t feel that?”

  “I do, but I always do when I’m around her. It’s not her fault.”

  I shake my head doubtfully, my eyes focused on Naomi’s. She doesn’t give anything away. “You sure about that?”

  The front door opens and closes immediately, the sound of the rain outside exploding and dying in an instant. Jonnie steps into the foyer, dripping worse than any of us. She looks slowly from the library to the kitchen to the dining room to the living room, taking us all in. All inside her home. Her lips tighten at the edges but she forces a grin.

  “He’s out and in recovery,” she announces to the whole house. “He’s
going to be fine.”

  “Thank God,” Alex breathes in relief.

  Nick comes to stand next to her, addressing Jonnie. “Is he in recovery or the ICU?”

  “Recovery. He’s still knocked out but they’re optimistic.”

  “We’ll go get him soon,” Nick says, looking at me. “We should bring him here before he wakes up. Moving him might hurt. If he’s passed out, he’ll never feel it.”

  I nod silently in agreement, turning my back on him. On his orders. On the entire room. Everyone but Naomi. Her I can’t escape because she’s still staring at me. She’s still pumping her fear gas through the room and I wish I was outside in the fresh air where I didn’t have to feel it.

  I strike the match hard, tossing it inside the wooden pyramid I’ve made. It catches on the dry bark, igniting instantly. And in that second, I feel clear. Lighter. Like the gas is gone or blown away, just for a second.

  “Thanks for doing that,” Jonnie says quietly.

  I turn around to find her standing over me. Between me and Naomi. I wipe my hands on my jeans, standing up straight. “Yeah, no problem. Thanks for letting us stay here with you. I know I kinda forced the issue back at the clinic.”

  She smiles weakly. “Maybe a little, but it’s fine. Alex was right. They’ll come looking for me eventually.”

  “I don’t know if they’d find you out here.”

  “Let’s hope not. You guys will be safer if they don’t.”

  “So, when do I get to meet your family?”

  Jonnie frowns, confused. “What family?”

  “Your horses and the dick pig. To be honest, I’m looking forward to him the most.”

  She smiles, shaking her head, her wet hair draping over her slight shoulders. “You guys will have a lot to talk about. A lot in common.”

  “Great. Let’s take a walk. Go find him.” I grin down at her. “We’re already wet. Might as well make the most of it.”

  “Why do I feel like ‘going to meet my pig’ doesn’t actually mean going to meet my pig?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  She takes a slow step back, watching me carefully. Grinning mildly. “Yeah, I think you do.”

  “Raincheck. Literally.”

  “Where does that phrase even come from?” Britta ponders aloud, not really looking for an answer.

  I give her one anyway. Because I can. “Baseball. In the eighteen-eighties. Ballparks handing rainchecks out to ticket holders for a future game when the one they were at or going to was rained out or postponed.”

  Jonnie blinks, surprised. “Wow. You know your baseball history.”

  “I know my everything history.”

  “He thinks he’s knows everything,” Alex counters, coming into the room behind Jonnie. “It’s one of his better qualities.”

  “Wouldn’t that be a fault, not a quality?” she asks.

  Alex looks at me meaningfully. “Yes.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  NICK

  Campbell and I cover Alex when she goes to get Liam from the hospital. A nurse recognizes her from when she dropped him off, looking her up and down in confusion when she sees her damp hair and fresh clothing, free of blood. I know what the nurse is thinking. Did this girl ditch her friend at the hospital with a stab wound, go home, and take a shower? It seems cold. I know Alex feels bad about it, even though it’s not exactly the truth. She wishes she could have stayed with him. She’d be there for everyone all the time if she could be, but her compassion is going to drive her crazy or get her killed if she’s not careful. I’m starting to see that I have to be a balance for her the way she’s been one for me, sometimes pushing her to do what’s necessary over what feels right. I have to be the thickness of her skin. The hard edges of her tender heart.

  Liam is resting in a room upstairs with Gwen and Naomi bedside. I think everyone else needs a good meal and a nap because people are getting kind of hostile. Campbell and Britta are making snide remarks under their breath. Beck is starting to get sullen and withdrawn. Stewart has started to complain about everything. Trina’s as acidic as always. She’s a bit of a jerk by nature. Brody is the biggest surprise, though. He almost bit my head off when I suggested pasta for lunch. Apparently Brody hates pasta and I’m somehow selfish for suggesting it.

  As I stand next to Alex at the counter building sandwiches for everyone, her word comes clearly to mind; these people are hangry as hell.

  I hand Campbell a sandwich, nodding to Jonnie. “Now that we’re finally all together again, can you give us that intel you got on the army base?”

  “It’s not much,” she admits regretfully.

  Campbell jumps his butt up onto the counter, agile as a cat. “Anything is more than what we have.”

  “I found the base. It’s heavily guarded. No surprise.”

  “How is it guarded?”

  “I’m not an expert on security,” she begins

  “You’re not? Campbell challenges with a smirk. “Not even after being a Spy Master for all those years?”

  “I watched people, not military bases. And I can walk into any room at any time. Security measures never mattered to me.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “On the base, there are walls, not fences, and they’re at least two stories high with razor wire on the top. The entire thing is painted tan and brown to blend in with the desert. There’s a big gate in the front for trucks to pass through. Guards walking the top of the wall at all times.”

  “What kind of weapons are they carrying?” I ask her.

  She shrugs, repeating, “Not an expert. Rifles is the best I can tell you.”

  “Probably semi-automatic,” I comment to Campbell.

  He nods. “AR-15 or M-16 would be my guess.”

  “Did you get inside?” I ask Jonnie.

  “I did, yeah. Getting a head count was hard. People are always on the move. I’d guess around a hundred. Maybe a little more. I think I found Naidu’s bedroom. It was the biggest, cleanest, and most expensive looking in the place.”

  “Might have been Jokinen’s.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. It was recently slept in. It was kind of a mess. I didn’t see Naidu, not that I know of, but I don’t exactly know what he looks like. There was no one that looked like a general, though. No one that people stood up for when he walked by.”

  “No Jokinen either?”

  She purses her lips sadly, shaking her head. “No. None of the men I saw looked rich. Everyone wore army fatigues. Some of them definitely outranked others, but they were eating and working with the rest of the soldiers. I didn’t think Jokinen sounded like a Man of the People type.”

  “No, he doesn’t.” I rub the back of my neck thoughtfully. “Was there anything around the building? Was there somewhere we could Slip to outside their range to make a jump on them?”

  “I don’t know what their range is, but there’s nothing for miles. I couldn’t see anything but sand when I walked the perimeter.”

  “That’s what we were afraid of.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No, not your fault. Thanks for getting us the information.”

  “I’m guessing you want me to keep going back?” she asks, but it’s barely a question. It sounds more like an inevitability. And she’s right.

  “If you can, yeah. We need more information. With what little we have, we can’t strike. Not without expecting a massive loss of life.”

  “Were there others?” Alex asks Jonnie.

  She frowns. “You mean civilians?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yeah,” she answers somberly. This is a subject she was avoiding. “There were. At least seven people in prison cells, but a couple of them looked like soldiers. Probably caught stealing or something. There were four women in the cells. Another two in the kitchens. They all looked underfed and broken hearted.”

  “So, not volunteers to the cause?” Campbell asks, his question facetious but his tone serious. Thick with disgust.

>   Jonnie meets his eyes, holding them for a long moment. “No. They’re slaves. Probably in every way.”

  “We can’t bomb it,” Justin tells the room, his voice quiet but forceful. He looks at each us with imploring eyes. “Can we?”

  “No,” I agree with him ardently. “We can’t. Not with civilian lives inside.”

  “Which means our job just got a lot more complicated,” Campbell adds.

  “We need all the information Jonnie can get us, and fast. We have to come up with our Best Case Plan, the one that’s our ideal, and build from there. It will help Jonnie get us the information we need if we give her some focus.”

  “Best case scenario is all of the civilians are rescued,” Alex tosses out.

  “Priority number one is taking out Jokinen,” I disagree, knowing in my heart she won’t appreciate it. “Second priority is clearing the civilians.”

  “Nick,” she starts to argue.

  I put up my hand, asking her to wait. “We free ourselves first. Then the prisoners.”

  “But in freeing ourselves, how willing are we to sacrifice them?”

  “Not at all. We will not sacrifice them to get the job done. I’m not saying their lives are less important than killing Jokinen. What I’m saying is, if we have to make the choice between hitting our mark first and setting them free, I’m hitting the mark.”

  “Agreed,” Campbell says.

  Jonnie nods. “Same here.”

  “I guess it’s decided then,” Alex grumbles angrily.

  I grind my teeth together, my jaw straining with restraint. With the conflict of honor and necessity. Of Alex and my instincts. “Should we take a vote? Get everyone on the same page?”

  They nod unenthusiastically, mumbling their consent.

  I raise my hand. “All in favor of priority one being the termination of Jokinen and the freeing of the prisoners our secondary objective, raise your hand.”

  Campbell, Jonnie, Brody, and Trina raise their hands.