Winter's Legacy: Future Days (Winter's Saga Book 6)

by Karen Luellen

  Back inside the house, Meg started a slow, meticulous sweep for any signs of audio or visual surveillance. She searched each room for anything that looked out of place. She checked every light fixture, under every table and shelf and then looked for any wires that seemed to go nowhere.

  Nothing.

  Having just checked under the living room sofas, Meg sat sprawled on the dusty hardwood floor and looked around the room.

  I’m missing it. Dang, I wish Evan and Alik were here to help me, she thought as she chewed on her bottom lip.

  She took a slow deep breath and rolled her head trying to loosen the tension in her shoulders.

  What am I missing? She pushed herself. I can’t sense anyone observing me, but that could just mean the surveillance is automated and not actively monitored.

  She kept an internal dialogue going as she went, careful not to speak her thoughts out loud just in case there were ears listening or recording.

  Maybe I should just hunker down and wait for them.

  She closed her eyes and searched for Creed’s signature. Once found, she gathered images of his location. He was walking down the aisle of an airplane cabin. Ever the sentry, he had been checking everybody, including the pilots. Through his eyes, Meg saw the smiling faces of her family as they looked up to talk with him as he passed each row. She saw him hurry to his seat so he could concentrate on their connection. She sent him images of the room in which she sat to show him she had made it home. Satisfied her family was safe and on their way, Meg sighed happily.

  Before releasing the connection, she lingered on a private memory sending sparks across the miles right to Creed’s heart. She felt his signature burst with love and pulse like a heartbeat in response. Reluctantly, she let go of the connection, reassured they would see each other soon.

  Meg’s stomach growled angrily as though it had been trying to get her attention for hours. Thinking back, it had been.

  She stood, dusted off her jeans and made her way into the kitchen. The fridge would have to be cleaned out, though now that the power was back on, it sat humming—obliviously cooling the spoiled food. Knowing she had a long evening of chores ahead, she walked directly to the pantry and found her dinner in a can of tuna and another of peaches.

  She forced the tuna down, sans mayo or bread or even a fresh sleeve of crackers just because she knew she needed the protein. The peaches she savored straight from the can. She reminded herself to slow down and live in the moment as the sweet syrup dripped from the peach half dangling over her opened mouth and plopped on her tongue.

  As she chewed deliberately, she looked out the window above the kitchen sink, admiring the yellows and oranges of the sun hanging low in the sky.

  Beautiful, she thought.

  She moved to pull up the wooden blinds so her view would be unobstructed. A smattering of dust particles flew into the air, glistening and dancing in the light. She waved her hand in front of her face, shooing the allergens away, and moved to lean back against the countertop. Another sweet, fleshy peach half made it to her mouth and she let her dark eyes absently follow the beam of light as it spilled into the room. It had slipped across the kitchen table and onto the wall behind it where her mother had hung a simple wood-framed, beveled glass mirror.

  She stopped chewing.

  Something wasn’t right.

  Slowly she set the half-eaten can on the counter and approached the mirror at an angle to not block the beam of light

  The shadow of a surveillance camera peered back at her.

  Oh, shit. Her internal reaction at finally locating what she’d been looking for was terror, but she held her body relaxed and feigned primping her curls in the mirror before slowly walking out of its view. She flattened herself against the wall and peeked around the kitchen doorway into the living room and looked around. She’d never noticed how many mirrors adorned the walls of her home until that moment. She was torn between making a run for it to escape the cold mechanical eyes or racing to the garage to get a baseball bat and smash the hell out of every reflective surface. She inhaled a shaky breath and forced herself to think.

  Get it together, Meg. What did you expect? You knew there would be surveillance planted in the house. Why freak about it now?

  Because he’s watching you, Megglet, a small voice sneered in her ear. And it doesn’t really matter which ‘he’ we’re talking about, does it? Pick your poison, Pretty. Tthe insane blood-lusting scientist slash DNA donor, Dr. Daddy Williams or the Scotch drinking psychopath slash senator slash would-be world leader Master Monarch!

  Meg winced as though physically struck. She slinked down against the wall hosting the camera and pulled her long legs up trying to make herself as small as possible. Her heart thrashed violently against her ribs. Even over the sound of it in her ears she could now hear a soft humming from the equipment in the wall at her back.

  What do I do? Did I juice the cameras when I turned on the solar panels? How could I be so stupid? Oh God, why didn’t I stay away until the others were here? I was so sure I was powerful enough to control what happened next. What a fool. And now, he’s coming for me! I can’t do this alone anymore. Damn it, what do I do?

  She bit back a sob and inhaled a shaky breath as she tried desperately to control her self-talk.

  Nothing was working.

  She was spinning.

  Her thoughts a frantic carousel with violent images—a screaming calliope of all her fears, self-doubts and insecurities breaking her will until a single thought rose above the others.

  I’ll tell you why you’re in a meltdown, you sniveling, overconfident, freak: Because for the first time since this whole battle began, you self-righteously believed you’d have a happy ending. The whole family fighting side by side and standing triumphantly over the fallen antagonists—wind blowing through your hair, fists raised in victory. You and your pretty little make-believe, girl warrior turned fairy princess world, the voice sneered. Your happily ever after is going to look a lot different. Your enemies are far more likely to find you alone tonight and rip you limb from limb—the prize in a demon dog fight.

  Brace yourself baby. Your end is nigh.

  38 Through the Looking Glass

  Meg had been staring at her dusty footprint on the kitchen floor, holding herself as still as a stone.

  The internal voice had been pouring poison into her mind for five minutes straight and it wasn’t letting up. On the contrary, the voice became more condemning with every minute.

  She forced herself to blink.

  When she opened her eyes small embers of fight sparked in them. She locked her jaw and narrowed her eyes angrily.

  “That’s enough!” she hissed, cutting off the internal voice of defeat.

  She uncurled her body from the fetal position it had held during the hateful self-condemnation. Arms that had wrapped themselves around her folded legs unraveled. Hands moved to the ground on either side of her hips.

  With every movement, her courage grew.

  “Get up, Meg,” she ordered herself. With white knuckles, she pushed off the ground until she stood shoulders back, chin held high in defiance.

  “You have a battle to prepare for. Get your ass moving.” She filled her lungs with air and pushed away from the wall.

  Go, just move, she chanted to herself as she strode across the room to the back door that led to the attached garage. The space was neatly organized thanks to Evan. She knew exactly what she wanted; she grabbed the garden wagon and started loading it with supplies. She moved with efficiency, gathering two and three things at once making plans as she went.

  She looked around once more before grabbing a heavy hammer and tossing it onto the pile.

  Outside, the wind picked up. An Arctic cold front was blowing in causing the temperature to drop dramatically, the way it could only do in Texas. Meg was so focused on her work, she ignored the cold trying to creep into her fingertips.

  She rolled the wagon back into the kitchen, yanked the wo
oden-handled hammer off the top of the heap and walked right up to the large, spying mirror.

  In a loud voice, to be heard clearly into the hidden audio equipment, she spoke directly into her reflection. “I know you’ve been watching me, and that you’re coming for me. Well, keep your eyes open, you bastard. I have something to show you!” Meg smiled, lifted the hammer over her shoulder like a baseball bat and swung. The mirror and the camera behind it screamed as it shattered. Meg saw the small green LED light on the camera flicker once before going black.

  Nodding with satisfaction, she scanned the room for any other reflective surfaces. Not seeing any, she grabbed the broom and dustpan from the pantry and quickly swept the shards of glass. She didn’t bother finding the other cameras throughout the house. Move! she yelled at herself. She just needed one temperature-controlled room blacked-out to prepare for what she instinctively knew would be their final battle.

  39 The Enemy of My Enemy

  Senator Donovan Arkdone’s cell phone vibrated an alert. A quick glance at the screen had his eyes bright with excitement. Anxiously, he opened the attachment, enlarged the images and turned on the audio. He had to control his urge to whoop at what he saw.

  Instead, he pocketed his phone, amusement still evident in the handsome smile lines around his dark eyes, and moved to stretch his injured hand. The throbbing had started to dissipate, though he only just now noticed. Rapid healing was a part of the metahuman package he’d enjoyed over the years.

  His smile continued as his thoughts shifted to that morning’s meeting with Presidential candidate Joe Hawthorne. Joe had the nerve to start the conference with a superior attitude, but it didn’t take long to wipe the smugness off his pasty face once he heard the terms of Arkdone’s proposition.

  “You’re bluffing.” Joe’s mouth hung agape.

  “I have no reason to bluff, Joe. I’m your Vice-Presidential Candidate or you lose. Checkmate.” He leaned back in the stiff leather chair opposite Joe who sat at his desk—an Oval Office replica—and draped his forearms on the captain’s armrests. Joe’s eyes bored holes in Arkdone’s forehead as he searched for any way out of the trap.

  Absently Donovan crossed his legs and nodded expectantly.

  “I’ll need my guys to crunch some numbers, of course,” he finally shrugged noncommittally—trying to save face.

  “Do it now. You have twenty minutes or my offer is revoked.” Arkdone savored his turn to smile smugly.

  Joe reached into his breast pocket and retrieved his phone. “Get me Hockiday.” There was a pause long enough for Joe to glance up at Donovan’s unreadable face. “I don’t care where he is or what he’s doing. Get him to my office immediately!”

  He disconnected the call with a tremor-filled finger.

  Exactly nineteen minutes later, after campaign managers Hockiday and Roth had put their calculators side-by-side, Hawthorne conceded to Arkdone’s terms. The announcement would be made to the press that very afternoon.

  For now, the Senator was resting in one of the guest suites at the priciest hotel in town. Just as his mind wandered back to Meg, his cell phone chirped indicating an incoming call.

  He checked the caller ID and raised a brow when a familiar area code flashed across the screen.

  “Hello, Dr. Williams,” he grinned into the phone.

  “Senator,” Williams responded as neutrally as possible.

  “It’s been ages. How have you been?”

  “Neither of us wants to exchange pleasantries,” Williams’ wet cough smacked in Arkdone’s ear.

  “Fine. What do you want?”

  “A truce.”

  “Why?”

  “The Winter Clan.”

  “What about them?”

  “They are reassembling. I have a proposition for you.”

  “I’m listening.” Arkdone’s tone took on an angry edge at the mention of Meg—and all the power she possessed—escaping him the night before.

  “We combine our forces and end them, once and for all.”

  Arkdone smiled, but kept his voice nonchalant. “Why do you need me? You have your soldiers. Just take care of them yourself.”

  “We’ve both underestimated this family time and again. I need your forces to join mine to not just tip the scales in our favor, but smash them into dust!” Williams’ breathing came in ragged, angry bursts. “I want the entire family slaughtered together,” he gritted his teeth. “Their deaths are long overdue.”

  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

  “Exactly.”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “I understand you’re about to make an announcement to the world concerning your alignment with presidential candidate Joe Hawthorne. Surely a man in your position wouldn’t want to risk nasty rumors of what really goes on in your asylum.” Williams’ leathery lips cracked open and bled as he smiled into the silence on the other end of the line. “They know too much, Arkdone.”

  “Agreed.” Deep in thought, Arkdone leaned back in his chair.

  “Have we a deal? Your forces and mine working in accord, just this once, toward a mutually beneficial end?” Williams pressed.

  Silence was the first response he got. “How do I know you don’t have a double-cross in mind?” Arkdone finally asked.

  “You could just as easily plot something against me, Senator.”

  “True.”

  “So, let me be clear,” Williams’ icy calm was crisp in his voice. “Neither of us trusts the other—that isn’t going to change. What I propose is a temporary truce in this endeavor; a final collaboration toward a mutual goal. Afterward we go our separate ways and our paths never need crossing again.”

  “Obviously, I have other interests these days. I suppose I could help you tie up this loose end.” He stood, absently wandered to the minibar and poured himself a drink. The adrenaline rush at the prospect of acquiring revenge against the Winter Clan made his mind race. “I am already assembling my metamonarchs—thirty-five of them.”

  “And my 17th Company is already en route, scheduled to arrive within the hour.”

  “Good. Ideally, we can get our teams there before the family arrives.”

  “Ideally, yes.”

  “Question.” Williams had been trying to figure out the best way to breech this topic, but decided in the end just to blurt it out and see what happened. “Where exactly is my daughter?”

  “Your daughter—yes, she is difficult, isn’t she?”

  Williams’ shoulders stiffened. “My gifts have made her extremely powerful.”

  “In the interest of our truce, I don’t suppose it matters if you know now—”

  “Is she alive?” Williams interrupted.

  “Oh yes, very much so.”

  Williams held the phone away from his peeling face and exhaled relief.

  “But our task would be much easier if she weren’t,” the Senator pushed.

  “Gideon Niche was your mole, correct?” Williams’ fingers itched for his silver orbs, but he refused to give in to the urge—his unconscious act of punishment.

  “Of course, he was. He brought Meg to me weeks ago. He died last night helping her escape my compound. That daughter of yours is a powerful mind bender. She even had me convinced for a while.”

  Williams smiled unapologetically at what he construed as compliments.

  “Where is she now?” Williams asked.

  “I know exactly where she is. She’s already at the Winter ranch in Texas.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She sent me a message ten minutes ago; quite a temper, that one.”

  “Why would she send you a message?”

  “Oh, she didn’t mean to at first. I had the place wired with surveillance after the incident in Flagstaff. She inadvertently set off the motion activated cameras,” he laughed at the image of her smashing the hell out of the device, “She wasn’t very happy about being observed.”

  “No, I imagine she wasn’t.”

  �
�So if our people arrive before the family, they’ll only have to deal with Meg. She’s formidable, but she’ll be alone. We take her out and leave her body visible so the remaining members of the family fight demoralized. In their anger and thirst for vengeance, they’ll be easy targets for us. Meg is the linchpin. Without her, without the hope of her, the family falls apart.”

  “I was wanting to collect my daughter alive. My plan was to maintain her as I had been before Gideon stole her away. If she is properly dosed with a sedative, she is harmless.” Williams struggled to maintain a detached tone in his voice, but Arkdone saw easily through his front.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve grown an authentic sense of attachment to her!” Arkdone shook his head in disbelief.

  “She is my daughter!” Williams snapped.

  “She’s far too dangerous to be allowed to live, Williams, and you know it,” Arkdone growled. “This is a deal-breaker, Kenneth. Meg Winter will die. She’s on top of the kill list, or I back out now.”

  Williams responded with silence.

  “What’ll it be Williams?”

  “Fine,” he growled through a clenched jaw.

  “So there’s no misunderstanding, I’ll need to see her body myself as proof regardless of who got the final kill shot.”

  Williams hissed, snake-like. “Understood.”

  “Good. Let’s finish this. I will have my metamonarch leader up to speed and mobilized immediately.”

  “I’ll inform my company leader of our plan. We should get our leaders in touch with one another so they can coordinate,” Williams suggested, trying to get his mind off the topic of Meg’s imminent death.

  “Better yet, we need to set everyone up to video conference.” Arkdone set his drink down hard and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “You’ve been studying these people for years, Kenneth. You know their specific abilities and possible weaknesses. We need to prepare the troops for what they’re going up against. The video conference will get all parties on the same page.”

  “Yes, but do we trust this kind of information to be transmitted across the airwaves?”