Farrow and Meg stayed out of sight as Alik pulled the van to a squeaky stop and rolled down his window. A metasoldier was already walking forward, clipboard in hand.
“Guten abend,” Alik offered. Yes, Alik spoke perfect German, thanks to his eidetic memory. It only took him one day to learn it. He just sat at the computer with the “Learn to Speak German” software and by dinner, he was fluent. Meg smiled wryly. Now that’s a gift.
“Wieder gutmachen Sie pünktlich. Unterzeichnen Sie hier,” the guard said, passing the clipboard and pen to Alik who scribbled next to the “X” and handed it back.
Peering through a crack in the boxes, Meg watched the exchange with bated breath. The guard frowned at Alik’s signature, then looked at him more closely.
“Sie sind nicht der übliche Lieferant. Wo ist Hans?” The guard squinted into Alik’s face.
“Er ist krank,” Alik said and shrugged innocently.
“Warten hier. Ich muss Ihre Firma rufen, zu beglaubigen.” He guard turned and strode back to the little booth and began talking to the other guard even as he reached for the phone.
“Alik!” Meg hissed. “What’s going on?”
“He says I’m not the regular guy and he’s going to have to call the company to verify my identity.” Alik whispered into his shoulder so it didn’t look too obvious. “Did you hear that, Creed?”
“I’m on it,” his voice was steady in Meg’s ear.
Meg never even saw who took out the surveillance cameras. They exploded all around the booth and on both sides of the gated entrance.
Creed was on the guards with deadly precision. Two shots, then silence.
They probably never even realized he was there.
The gate began to slide open, having been triggered by a button in the booth Creed found. Farrow flung the back doors wide so the three metas could spill back in. Creed closed the doors behind him and whispered, “All clear. Let’s go Alik.” He wasn’t even winded.
Gavil, Slider and Creed assumed their same positions casually, as though they’d just stepped out to get the mail instead of sprinting a half mile, shooting out security cameras and killing two metasoldiers.
“Are you ready, Meg?” Creed asked. This was all feeling so surreal, but she nodded and closed her eyes to look out into her empath’s night sky seeking the sickening venom of Williams’ signature. Her brothers and Farrow knew how traumatized she was by Williams’ macabre psyche, and felt them send encouraging thoughts her way. Without being conscious of it, Meg’s shaking hand reached out to find Creed’s. His strength and determination flowed into her, steadying her efforts, allowing her to focus.
“He’s in an office, sipping a cup of Earl Gray tea. He’s…oh, no!” Meg gasped. Everyone stared, waiting for her to explain.
“He’s expecting us.” Meg said numbly.
“What?”
“How the hell could he know?”
“We took out the surveillance at the gate!”
“There’s no way!”
“We are so screwed.”
“Shit.”
Creed reached out and held both her hands in his, forcing her to look at him. “Meg, where is he?”
“He’s in the administration building sitting behind his desk in his office. He’s thinking about how lovely it will be to see me…” Meg heard her voice drift away. “He’s calling to me.”
“Meg!” Creed shook her by the shoulders. “Snap out of it, stay with me. Gavil and I will go take care of Williams. Slider, Farrow you two trail behind us. You’re our backup in case things go south.” Slider, Gavil and Farrow all nodded. Each of their faces etched in angry stone.
“Alik, Evan, Meg…you stick to the plan. Go to the hospital building, sweep it quickly, then blow it the hell off the face of this Earth. Clear?”
Everyone murmured affirmative. Alik had pulled the van near the hospital, which wasn’t the original plan, but shit, all hell was breaking loose.
“Where is everyone?” Alik was scanning the compound for the metas he was sure would be present.
“It looks like a ghost town.” Evan breathed, craning his neck around to look back the way they’d come.
“This can’t be good,” Gavil groaned.
“If he knows we’re here, we could be in for a whole army of pissed off and delusional metas,” Slider whispered.
“Why wouldn’t they have been waiting at the entrance? Why let us get so far into the compound?” Farrow frowned.
Every eye in the van peered anxiously out the tinted windows, stretching their excellent meta vision into every growing shadow. They were tense and ready for attack.
When nothing happened for a moment, Alik put the van into park and turned to glance back at the others. “If all hell’s about to break loose, let’s get on with it.” His jaw was locked angrily.
“Hell, yeah,” Gavil growled.
“Let’s do this,” Farrow nodded to the others.
The ominous sensation was thick in the air.
Creed locked eyes with Meg one last time and reached out to hold her beautiful face in the calloused hand that wasn’t holding his gun. Unable to stop her reaction to his tenderness, she leaned into his palm and closed her eyes against the terror, instead wrapping herself in this soldier’s devotion. With the speed and grace of a panther, Creed turned away from her and threw the back doors open. In that instant all four metas were gone, leaving the siblings alone in the van.
“Put your comms on channel eight. Let’s get to work,” Alik ordered.
Meg, Alik and Evan scrambled out of the van. Evan ran to the building and began working his way around. He stopped periodically to set the explosives in their predetermined locations.
Alik yanked his sister’s hand and ran into the hospital. “Come on, Meg. I can’t do this alone.”
The chill in the night air helped shake some sense back into Meg’s numb mind. “You’re not alone, Alik. I’m with you.”
He took a moment to watch her eyes before nodding and stepping into the foyer of the hospital. Since security was so tight at the perimeter of the Facility, there were no guards standing around the lobby—they’d been hoping for this. Alik and Meg ducked into the stairwell without the triage nurses noticing and raced up three flights to the top floor where Creed had warned them they’d find the laboratory. The sensitive materials should be here.
Meg had to know.
She flung her senses across the floor, felt through walls, around corners, looking desperately for something she was terrified she would find.
She had to find the children.
Chapter 43 Meet the Monarch
Creed led the way back to the administration building at a fast clip. His mind was racing, but he forced himself to focus on the here and now. All four metas approached the doors cautiously, ready for a battle, but there was no one there.
“This isn’t right,” Gavil whispered as they ran to the stairwell. “Something feels very wrong about this, Creed.”
“We’re here to complete an objective, soldier,” Creed growled at his older brother. The truth was, he felt it, too. Something was off. His senses were off the charts screaming at him to fight or fly.
When they reached the third floor, Creed whispered to Farrow and Slider. “This is where we split up. Keep your comms open to channel four and listen hard. If you hear some shit going down, or don’t hear from us at all in—” he checked his watch, “eight minutes, assume we’re dead and it’s up to you.” The look he gave his team was beyond serious. “On my mark,” each of them reached to their watches to set the silent timers.
“Mark.” All four watches were clicked. The countdown began.
With no time to waste on speeches, the boys raced down the hall on silent feet to the massive double doors. The brothers paused on either side, each reaching to grab the handle of the door closest to them. Creed watched his brother steady his hands then silently counted to three.
No hesitation.
The boys flung the massive doors
wide and aimed their weapons around the dimly lit room.
There, sitting just as Meg had described, was Williams. His gloved hands were carefully placing the fine China cup delicately down on its matching saucer. The room smelled of expensive leather and Earl Gray tea. His desk was neatly organized. Only a laptop was open and angled so he could easily see both it and his guests.
“Good evening gentlemen.” What was supposed to be a smile crept across his bloody face. “I’m so glad to see you both.”
Not wanting to hear another deceptive word ooze from Williams’ mouth, Creed trained his weapon directly at the doctor. Pulling the trigger would be so easy. He would be free. His finger began to tighten when Williams began making a bizarre noise that took Creed a moment to realize was laughter—a sick, gurgle that morphed into full-on maniacal laughter.
“Oh, my dear Creed, you won’t want to do that.” He motioned casually toward the .45 pointed at his face. “I mean, you could, of course. Free will and all. But then, who would protect Meg?” His leather encased hand waved toward the screen he had been watching when they first walked into the room.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Creed spat, furious at being stopped from accomplishing his objective.
“Don’t let him screw with your head, Creed. Finish him!” Gavil’s eyes were wide with fear at what he suspected Williams was doing.
“Oh, now Gavil. Creed has a vested interest in the girl. You understand what it is to feel a love so deeply, don’t you? Of course, the girl you loved was terminated along with my sweet June. Pity really. Esther was a valuable asset—a true soldier.”
“Shut up!” Gavil spat hating the sound of her name on his bloody lips.
Ignoring Gavil, Williams turned to Creed and smiled grotesquely. “Come see for yourself, my boy. My but she is even more beautiful than the last time I saw her in California.” A strange tisking sound came from his mouth. “Oh, how time does fly.” His tone was bizarrely wistful.
Terror gripped Creed’s spine, locking his legs for a moment. Once he did step, it was with jerky, sluggish motions as though wading through chest-deep molasses. He kept his gun aimed directly at Williams’ head as he rounded the massive mahogany desk.
“Creed, dude…don’t look. Meg wouldn’t want you to look.” Gavil pleaded, his own weapon raised and pointed at the space where Williams’ heart should have been—if he had one.
Williams frowned deeply and with speed neither metasoldier expected from the skinless monster, slapped the lid closed, hiding the view the laptop was about to reveal to Creed’s glassy, terrified eyes.
“Maybe he’s right, Creed,” Williams nodded toward Gavil while never allowing his eyes to waver from Creed.
“I mean, what would it do to you to see this?” He waved at the laptop. “You do, after all, have an objective you’re trying to achieve, and if there’s one thing Commander Oldham and I tried to instill in you, is absolute focus on achieving the goals placed before you. That’s all it was about, son. Teaching you to be a better man. Seeing what this screen holds won’t help you achieve your goal. On the contrary, it will probably lead to your untimely death.” He nodded his gruesome head.
“I’ve heard enough,” Gavil growled and pulled the hammer back on his gun, his face twisted in fury.
“No!” Creed growled and stepped in front of Williams, blocking his brother’s shot with his body. “He’ll hurt Meg!” Creed’s eyes pleaded with his brother.
“Not if he’s dead!” Gavil stepped forward, wanting to shove his brother aside.
“Oh, you must think so little of me, Gavil. Don’t you think I have every contingency plan in place? If you kill me, you will all be killed—starting with Meg, of course.”
Gavil glared at the beady-black eyes of his former Director peeking from under Creed’s defensively raised arm.
“You see boys, I’ve known all about your intentions since that day you went to visit your brother in his recovery room, Gavil. I’ve had plenty of time to plan for your arrival,” he chirped happily before another bout of insane, raspy chuckles erupted from his chest.
Still poised between his brother and Williams, mind racing with what could be happening to Meg, the watch on Creed’s wrist began to vibrate indicating eight minutes had passed. Gavil’s watch warned him simultaneously. The brothers watched in equal parts of panic and relief when Farrow and Slider burst into the room.
The second it took Farrow to look around the room was enough to put a deep frown on her face. “What the hell is going on in here?” she growled.
“Farrow! I’m so happy to see you, my dear!” Dr. Williams gushed, stepping out from behind Creed as though wanting to embrace his former personal assistant. He stopped short considering she hadn’t dropped her arm with the gun clocked and ready to fire. He seemed not to notice the steel in her hand and just stood rocking back and forth in his expertly made Italian leather shoes smiling widely at the furious soldier, leather gloved hands clasped behind his back.
“Oh, Gavil, Creed and I were just catching up,” he grinned at the boys standing around the room as if he was the host of some macabre dinner party.
“You know, when Miro told me you were alive and had joined the Winters, I couldn’t decide if I was more surprised, hurt or angry, but now that I see you, I can truly say I’m just glad to see you healthy.”
Farrow glanced at Creed and Gavil—trying to figure out the answer to her question. What the hell is happening? Why hadn’t they killed Williams?
Feeling like this was a funhouse with mirrors distorting reality, Farrow didn’t know what to say or do. It was Gavil who spoke next. “Who’s Miro?”
“Oh, how rude of me,” he turned to Slider and said, “It’s time to hear the ‘music of the spheres.’”
Slider’s eyes blinked heavily for half a second having heard his trigger. His alter, Miro came forward, taking control of the body.
When his eyes opened, they were changed. Slider’s formerly amber eyes—a striking brownish-gold—changed into a dull black. He was standing four feet to Farrow’s left and even she leaned forward to try to understand the blackness in his eyes. She knew this was no longer Slider.
His whole posture changed, the muscles in his face pulled differently. The changes were subtle in and of themselves, but taken as a whole, it became very clear the man standing in the room was absolutely different. When he spoke, the shift in personalities became even more pronounced. A distinctly Russian accent came from the thin lips of the man formerly known as Slider. He only said, “I am here, Director.”
“Creed and Gavil Young, Farrow Schone, may I introduce my Monarch slave. You know only one part of this man’s complex system—‘Slider.’ Through diligent training and consistent teachings beginning at a very young age, Miro has become one of my most valuable assets.”
Creed stared, jaw agape at Slider who now held his gun rock still pointing directly at Farrow’s temple.
Williams sighed deeply and shook his head as though amazed and exhausted at the same time.
“You have so much yet to learn, my dear children.” He walked casually to his still warm cup of tea and lifted the expensive china to his bloody lips to take a sip. He hummed happily, savoring the flavor. “You know, with more money than God, I could afford any tea I want. I could even develop a new flavor if the thought suited me,” he chuckled and shook his head as he placed the cup back onto its saucer. “There’s just something about the familiar flavor of this Earl Gray. Why would I want to change what is already so beautifully made?”
He looked up thoughtfully at Creed and nodded. “Do you see what I’m saying, my boy? Once I find value and worth in something, I treasure it above and beyond all others. I consider myself a very loyal soul.”
He flipped the laptop open again and sighed loudly when the image reappeared, visible only to his eyes due to the angle of the screen. “Meg is beautifully made, Creed. She is mine.”
He turned the laptop abruptly so it faced the others in
the room. Creed’s already pale face curled in anguish at the sight.
“It’s time for you to go, Creed.” Williams nodded to Miro/Slider. Creed tore his eyes from the screen and instinctively jumped to the floor, his gun moving with the body memory of years of weapons training.
Miro shifted his aim from Farrow to Creed. They shot simultaneously.
Chapter 44 The Children
Meg felt the pull.
She spun on her heels and sped back down the stairwell they’d just exited following her empath’s heart.
Alik had been watching his sister and was running right behind her when she took off.
“Meg, where are you going?”
“They’re down here!” She breathed, taking steps two and three at a time.
“It’s just the lobby.” Alik tried to reason even as he leaped down steps himself.
“I can feel them, Alik.” Her voice cracked with desperation.
They arrived at the ground-level, breathing deeply and spinning in place looking for a way down into the basement.
“Let’s try the elevator. Maybe that’s the only way down there.” Alik offered, already hurrying on silent feet to the doors and jabbing the button.
Meg was right behind him, frowning with concentration, trying to feel where the children were.
When the doors opened, they saw looked at the panel and saw a flat space marked “B” but there was no button beside it; only a key hole.
“There’s a basement, but how the hell do we get down there?”
As if on cue, the elevator began to move, startling both Alik and Meg.
They were going down.
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do this.”
Meg sighed deeply and pulled her gun out of its holster on her waist. “Evan, are you there?” she spoke into her comm mouth piece at her throat.
“Almost done.” He sounded winded.
“We’re in some deep shit, little brother. No matter what happens, you stay back,” she ordered, sure the doors would open any moment.
Winter's Wrath: Sacrifice (Winter's Saga #3) Page 27
