by Gloria Craw
I laughed. “Oops.”
“I think my mom has finally given up on me. She rearranged my flight so I’d be out of the way.”
“What are you going to do with the rest of the weekend?”
“Fill out college applications, I guess. I’ve been putting it off because I can’t decide if I want to stay local or go away to school.” She sighed and looked off in the distance. “My dad died recently. I want to be around to support my mom, but sometimes I think she’s more annoyed with me than it’s worth. She prefers Jacob’s company.”
Now that she’d brought it up, I could offer my condolences. “I’m really sorry,” I said.
She nodded. “I’m more like he was than I am like my mom. He got me, you know?”
I did know. As much as I loved my mom, my dad was easier to spend time with sometimes. He was the quiet voice of reason.
Gliding off the lift, we pulled our masks down. But someone called Phoebe’s name before we could get very far. It was a middle-aged woman I’d seen at the Truss dinner. She was sitting in the snow, waving us over.
“Oh, crap,” Phoebe said. “That’s my aunt Bev.”
“Look what I’ve done,” Bev said. She pointed to her ankle. “Twisted the darn thing.”
“Do you want me to get ski patrol to take you down?” Phoebe asked.
“They’re already on the way now. Would you sit with me until they get here?”
“Ah…sure,” Phoebe replied. She turned to me. “Can you wait?”
“I probably shouldn’t. I have to get my…grandma’s car back.”
“I’ll text you,” she said. “We’ll stay in touch.”
“Yep,” I lied. “I hope everything’s fine with your ankle,” I said to Bev.
I don’t think she heard me. She’d already started to explain her fall to Phoebe.
I glided away to enjoy the snow for a last time.
It couldn’t have been more perfect. The storm had cleared completely, leaving blue sky, sunshine, and fresh powder. I built up as much speed as I could and carved hard into the corners. Riding the edge between exhilaration and a danger, I felt Uncle Thomas ahead of me.
He was on a different line but not moving. Remembering Bev and her twisted ankle, I decided to check on him.
Just like I’d found Phoebe on the first day, he was lying on his back in the snow. The difference was the angle of his left leg. Either he was really flexible or it was broken.
I got off my board. “Is ski patrol coming?” I asked him.
He grimaced. “Yeah, someone went to get them. I suspect it will be a while, and the cold is getting to me. Can you help me sit up?
“Don’t you think that will make your leg worse?”
“I’m not sure, but I can’t continue lying here like this.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
I reached for his hand, and the moment my fingers met his, everything shifted into slow motion. A flash of sunlight reflected off something metal. Instinctively, I pulled my hand back, but it was too late. Thomas had sliced clean through my glove with a knife.
Searing pain ripped into my hand, and I stumbled back, seeing red dots of my blood color the snow.
Uncle Thomas’s expression was so menacing I almost didn’t recognize him. “Go ahead,” he said. “Try to thoughtmake me.”
I didn’t understand what was happening. Fighting panic, I took a step back, but he caught my good hand and twisted it until it felt like my wrist would break. I formed the thought let her go, and tried to join his mind. There wasn’t enough energy in me to make the connection.
“You can’t join while bone is regenerating,” he said with an ugly smirk. “Nikki knows that better than anyone.”
I looked at my blood-soaked glove. He’d cut off three of my fingers. I wanted to throw up. But survival instinct kicked in, and I lashed out at him with my booted foot. He lost his grip on me enough that I could turn away and hustle toward my board.
Phoebe’s uncle had turned into a homicidal manic. He might have been old, but he wasn’t slow. He got to his feet and caught me. I felt the sting as he whacked me in the back with his ski pole. All the oxygen in my lungs whooshed out and I crumpled to the ground.
Like a savior, Phoebe skied over a bump in the hill. She was alone.
“Get help!” I yelled. “He’s lost his mind!”
She skidded to a stop. Behind her goggles, her eyes were wide. She looked at the blood-smeared snow and gulped.
“This girl isn’t who she says she is,” Thomas snarled. “She’s been spying on the rest of us.”
I pushed myself up and swung my good arm to hit him in the shin. He kicked me and pushed my face into the snow before I could connect.
“Stop!” I heard Phoebe cry. “What’s happening?”
I tried to get leverage to get myself up again but slipped. That’s when he hit me in the diaphragm with his mind energy. I pushed back against the pressure, but I didn’t have the strength to hold him off for long.
I was able to slide out from under his foot, but I barely had air to speak. “Help me, Phoebe,” I whispered.
“This girl is the White Laurel’s daughter,” he continued. “She used you to get close to us. But don’t worry, I’m going to take care of her. Get back to the lodge.” When she didn’t go, he yelled, “Now!”
Phoebe’s confusion turned to anger. Maybe she’d had enough of being told what to do, same as me. “Whoever you think she is, I won’t let you kill her. I’m going to the lodge, but I’m getting security. I’m going to tell them everything.”
She started to move then, but Thomas sent his energy at her. She cried out when the force of it hit her. She’d probably been taught to fight back, but she was no match for him. She fell forward.
“Damn it,” Thomas muttered. “Now I’ll have to deal with two of you as well as clean up this mess.”
That was the last thing I remember before he choked me out.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I woke up tied to a chair with a gag in my mouth. My head ached, my hand throbbed, and I was shaky from lack of blood and energy. Tears of pain ran down my cheeks.
Phoebe was somewhere behind me, either asleep or unconscious. Nikki was around, too. I was back in cabin M5.
The man I’d thought of as Uncle Thomas was outside pacing back and forth and talking. Since he and I were the only conscious ones, I figured he was either speaking on the phone or to his imaginary friends. The friggin’ psycho.
Jolly Old Saint Nicholas had never shown any sign of recognizing me, but he’d obviously figured it out. He’d played it perfectly. What I couldn’t figure out was why he’d brought me back to the cabin. If he wanted to kill me, he could have done it on the hill and buried my body in the snow. I probably wouldn’t have been found ‘til spring.
I did a quick flip through my memories of the Truss dinner. As far as I could tell, Thomas and Yvonne hadn’t interacted at all that night, but with a new perspective, I noticed they’d shared a few looks of understanding.
From the angle of the sunlight coming through the window, I figured it was probably late morning. If I was right, Theron probably hadn’t made it back from Frank’s yet. Depending on how much wood he chopped, he might not realize I was gone for another hour. I’d taken the Land Rover, so he’d be on foot if he came after me. Which meant if I wanted to be around for another birthday, I was going to have to rescue myself.
Tears kept coming as I tested the strength of the rope binding my hands. It was agony, but I had to accept the pain and keep trying to get free. Rolling my wrists, I pulled. There was hope. I could feel the warmth of my blood seeping through the fibers of the rope. If it was made of the right sort of stuff, moisture might loosen it. My wrists as well as my hands were going to be shredded, but being dead would suck worse. I twisted my wrists more.
I only got to work at it for a minute or so, because I felt Jacob coming. I let my head roll forward just before he and Thomas came inside.
“Take Linton to the back room,�
�� Thomas said.
Wondering who Linton was, I opened one eye slightly and looked through my lashes. A small boy with blond hair trailed Jacob down the hall and out of sight.
Thomas pulled me by the hair to lift my head, yanked the gag out of my mouth, and slapped me hard across the face. The sting brought more tears to my eyes. He looked like a happy elf again.
“Hello, Ali McCain,” he said. “Oh, I know that’s not your real name. You’re Grace’s daughter. You’re not much like her at first glance, but the resemblance is there…in the expression. I saw it when you were having breakfast with Phoebe yesterday.”
I didn’t bother saying anything. Denying my identity was useless.
“The thing about looking like I do,” he said, “is that people constantly underestimate me. They think I’m all smiles and laughter. What they don’t realize is that I’m the smartest person in the room.”
He stepped away from me. “You seem confused,” he continued. “Let me explain. The family knows me as Thomas. Those outside it, particularly the clan chiefs’ spies, know me as Maxwell.”
I’d sort of pieced that bit together. Uncle Thomas was Maxwell, Sebastian’s henchman.
“You understand now, don’t you?” he asked. “When I worked for my cousin, I made contingency plans. I used the name Maxwell for all my business transactions, knowing the time might come when I would need to distance myself from Sebastian’s reputation.” He tapped the side of his head with his finger. “See…smarter than I look.”
He said it like I should clap or something. Modesty wasn’t his virtue. Which would work for me if I could keep him talking.
“So long as Sebastian kept funding my research, I didn’t mind working for him. You know all about my cousin, don’t you?”
“I know he was insane,” I replied.
Maxwell laughed. “That’s not what I was referencing, but yes. Toward the end, ambition got the best of his mind. I never liked him much, actually, but his father had been my mentor.
“We shared a passion for science and research. He didn’t foresee Sebastian’s mental issues when his father created him. For a long time, he thought he could fix them. But when nothing worked, he destroyed everything that might lead to creating another dewing like the boy he called his son. He thought he’d failed his work.”
I kept my expression as bland as possible while I twisted the rope behind me. “What does any of this have to do with me?” I asked.
“I’m getting to that. When my mentor died, I vowed to continue his research, but the kind of science I’m talking about costs a lot of money. I had to shut everything down, but then like a gift…you walked into dinner Wednesday night.”
“How am I a gift?” I asked.
“You’re worth a lot of money. Enough that I can relaunch my research.”
My laugh came out like a cough. “I have access to two hundred dollars taped under the dashboard of my car. You’re welcome to it.”
He tipped his head to the side and considered. “Has Spencer been playing games again? Didn’t he tell you how wealthy you are? It isn’t very nice the way he keeps secrets, but a lot of what Spencer does isn’t very nice. Like sending you here to look for Nikki. That was quite a risk.”
“What did you do to Phoebe?” I asked.
“Oh, she’ll be fine,” he replied as Jacob came back into the room.
“She’s enjoying a dose of Nikki’s medication,” Jacob said with a cocky smile. “When she wakes up, I’ll tell her all of this was your fault.” He handed my phone to Maxwell. “I broke through her password protect. You can access her contacts now.”
“It’s time to begin, then,” Maxwell said.
I pushed back in my chair as Jacob came to me. He was pale and sweating, but in his eyes, I glimpsed what he must have looked like as a kid about to nail the rat to his sister’s door. He enjoyed cruelty.
“I knew there was something off about you,” he said to me. “Phoebe doesn’t make friends. She scares people.”
“Are you sure you aren’t talking about yourself?” I asked.
He jerked me to my feet and slapped me across the face. Even broken and weak from blood loss, the fight in me wasn’t gone. I pulled together enough energy to ram him with my shoulder. He reacted fast, grabbing my hair and twisting me around, forcing me to my knees. Then he hit me again. I tasted blood.
“I think that will do for now,” Maxwell said. “Turn her face to me, please.”
Jacob wrenched me around, and my phone flashed a few times. Then he jerked me up and sat me back on the chair. It was all I could do to keep from falling sideways onto the floor.
“I’ll just send these off to Spencer,” Maxwell said, typing on my phone. “I expect he’ll be in touch soon.”
“How long before we get the money?” Jacob asked.
“Not long. As soon as Spencer sees we’re serious, he’ll contact us.”
If I hadn’t been concentrating so hard on staying upright, I might have laughed. Spencer wouldn’t transfer one penny of my inheritance to Maxwell. He’d let me die a slow and painful death and consider it a sacrifice for the greater good.
Jacob grabbed his jacket. “Nikki is building a tolerance to whatever drug you’re giving her. You need to switch to something else to keep her quiet until the vote is over.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Maxwell said. “Where are you off to?”
“My mom expects me at the lodge for an early lunch,” he explained.
“Actually she’s doesn’t,” Maxwell replied. “I told her we wouldn’t be back until the meeting at seven.”
Jacob’s shoulders went rigid, and his face reddened. “I’m the one calling the shots here. You don’t speak for me.”
“Of course,” Maxwell replied, putting his hands up in what appeared to be surrender.
When Jacob turned to go, Maxwell got the switchblade knife out of his pocket. Before I could warn him, Maxwell had sliced into Jacob’s throat. He dropped into a pool of his own blood, but his mind was still alive. He fought to hold on, but it didn’t last long. I felt the moment the energy ran dry and his vibration stopped.
The scent of his blood filled the room. My stomach heaved.
“Such a mess,” Maxwell said, looking down at Jacob’s body. “But knives are so effective. Much more effective than breaking someone’s neck. Why we’ve held on to that tradition for so long, I don’t know.”
He went to the sink and washed his knife.
“Why did you do that?” I muttered. “He was working with you.”
“I don’t need him anymore. He was useful when he paired with Nikki. It presented an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. But he’s served his purpose. Consider it tying up loose ends.”
He dried his knife and picked up my phone. I started moving the wet ropes on my wrists again.
“Why were you working with him?” I asked.
“It’s a long story.”
“Obviously, I’ve got time,” I replied.
“You’re a bit on the sassy side, aren’t you?”
I gave him a sickeningly sweet smile.
“Very well, I’ll tell you. Nikki helped Sebastian locate you. I was the go-between when they needed to communicate. I didn’t like the idea of Sebastian going into Las Vegas to get you himself. I worried he wouldn’t make it back out with Spencer in the area and all.
“I knew I’d need money if it went badly, so I took Nikki. I thought ransoming her would be a good way to get cash. But when I stopped by Yvonne’s to pick up the keys to my lab, Jacob was there. He and Nikki paired, and suddenly I could see another…better way to get the money. I’d simply use Jacob the same way I’d used Sebastian.
“I’d help him get the clanship, in exchange for financial support. It was disappointing when we found out that Sebastian had spent most all the clan’s financial reserves.”
I was starting to feel some slack in the ropes. I just needed a little bit longer.
“You’re right,” I said. “You
are smart…and insane.”
“But I’m not,” he replied. “I haven’t perfected the process, but like my mentor, I’ve created a dewing-human hybrid. Jacob arranged this family reunion at just the right time. I’m going to show my creation to the Elders tonight. When they realize there’s a way to build a clan’s size, they’ll see me as a hero. I’ll be seen as a great scientist and a savior. I’ve wanted that recognition for a long time.
“Too bad my wife won’t be here to witness the Elders’ reaction,” he continued. “She hates that I spend so much time in the lab. She resents my work and never wants to know what I’m doing there. She’ll appreciate it now.”
The truth dawned. “The boy in the next room is your hybrid, right?”
“Yes. He had a twin, but that boy died. Neither of them turned out right. They were intellectually and physically stunted. But I’ll perfect the process and when I do, Linton will have served his purpose…just like Jacob.
The implication was clear—he was going to kill the child, too.
He checked my phone for messages. “The problem is that the clan is broke. I still need money for research, but I’ll have yours soon. Everything is working out amazingly well.”
The train whistle on my phone sounded.
“Will you look at that?” Maxwell said. “Spencer is trying to stall. I guess we’ll have to give him some incentive to hurry.”
He grabbed his knife off the counter and came toward me. It was now or never. I slid my wrists out of the knots, let him get to within arm’s length, and then jumped up and knocked the knife from his hand. I followed that up by punching him in the throat. My favorite move.
While he struggled to breathe, I freed my feet from the ropes.
He made a growling noise and directed his mind energy at my kneecaps. I thought they might explode from the inside out, but I managed to kick him in the hip. He swayed but kept his footing and then hit the underside of my nose with his palm. I was weak from loss of blood and couldn’t protect myself when he pushed me to the floor.
Irritated more than anything else, he wrapped his sweaty fingers around my neck and squeezed until I saw stars. While my vision narrowed and my fingers and toes started to go numb, I glimpsed a shadowed shape coming toward us.
