by Lisa Cardiff
I am disappointed in you, Mr. Flannigan. You are always so eager to take. Don’t get ahead of yourself. This was supposed to be an equal exchange. If you want more information, you’ll have to find it in your heart to become a giver. I look forward to your prompt response.
When he finished reading the email, he nearly pickup his laptop and threw it out the window. He wished he knew who his source was so he could show her how much of a taker he was in person. He hastily fired off an email in response.
If I had information, I wouldn’t be asking you. Where’s the girl? I know the Fae don’t have her anymore.
He pressed send then leaned back in his chair.
Her response was nearly instantaneous.
I knew you had it in you to be a giver. What do you mean the Fae don’t have her?
His source was out of the loop too. Good to know he wasn’t the only one. He stared at his computer screen, trying to find a way to spin the situation to his advantage.
Call my cell phone number. I’m sure you can find it, and we’ll talk about this.
Less than a minute later, his cell phone started vibrating on his desk. A smile spread across his face as he picked up his phone, eagerly awaiting the sound of her voice.
She didn’t bother to with a greeting. “I hope this is worth my time. What information do you have?” she said matter-of-factly.
“So Leanan speaks. Is that your real name?”
“Do you care?”
“I just wanted to know if you’re my beautiful, irresistible muse as the fairy legend suggests and I’m destined to live a short but brilliant and inspired life.”
“Sure, if that’s what you want to believe. I’d be happy to grant you a short life.”
The tone in her voice caught his attention. It was sarcastic, even faintly bitter, and it certainly heightened his curiosity about her motives. “I need thank you. Your information has been insightful, and useful to say the least. Why are you giving me the information anyway?”
“My motives are my own, and I’m not interested in making small talk or sharing them.”
He chuckled. “Your wish is my command, my lady.”
“Don’t try to humor me. Explain the comment in your email. What you mean the Tuatha Dé doesn’t have her anymore? ”
He tapped his pencil on the top of his desk, deciding what information he wanted to share. He cleared his throat and said, “It has come to my attention the girl has been in touch with one of my colleagues. They are meeting sometime this evening.”
“It could be a setup or just an erroneous assumption by your colleague. Maybe it’s some sort of staged confrontation. That she is meeting one of your colleagues does not automatically translate into her not being with one of the Fae.”
“You’re right, of course, but it could also mean she has shaken her captor.”
“Where are they meeting?”
“I’m not privy to that information. Perhaps you could tell me her last known location,” he countered, sensing her distrust and anger. He wasn’t certain if one or both were directed toward him, which was perfectly acceptable to him. He didn’t need her to like or trust him—he just needed her information.
“A house outside of Tuam,” she murmured, her voice wavering.
He smiled. So, she did have some misgivings about giving him information. “Can I get an address?”
“No. Be resourceful,” she said flatly. “I’m sure if you thought about it or maybe even sorted through some old Foundation records, you could figure it out yourself. I thought you were smart enough that you wouldn’t need me to spoon-feed you every detail.”
“Okay.”
“Who is she planning to meet?”
“Is it a name you want?”
“Yes. I need to know all the players,” she shot back.
“Are you planning to find them?”
“Maybe.”
“Peter. His name is Peter. I wouldn’t be offended if he happened to disappear, die, or otherwise cease to exist. That is, if you find them first. I don’t plan on that happening, but who knows?”
“I feel the same way about the girl,” she said in a fierce voice. “I wouldn’t mourn her death or disappearance. In fact, it would be celebrated.”
Thomas let out a low whistle. “Now that is a twist I wasn’t anticipating. I thought everybody wanted to control the girl.”
“Not me. All I want to control is her imminent death.”
“I must say, I’m surprised. Avery seems too meek and amenable to generate such fierce hatred. Leanan, in the interest of honest disclosure, I must say I am not at all interested in facilitating the girl’s death. I’d much prefer her alive, and I intend to find her and keep her that way as long as she proves useful.”
Almost unconcerned, the woman responded, “I have no intention of letting her live.”
Thomas touched his cell phone, severing his connection with the enlightening, Leanan. He opened a locked drawer in his desk, pulled out a file, and dumped it on his desk. Quickly scanning the documents looking for any known Fae safe houses in the Tuam area, he found two potential locations in the Foundation records. Finally, he had his lead. He intended to have someone search them both this evening and, to be safe, he would watch her old hotel too. Peter thought Avery was his now that she escaped the Fae, but Thomas had no intention of letting that happen. Avery was his. No other outcome was acceptable.
Chapter 11
Kalen was well hidden in the shadows of the ruins of Temple Jarlath by the time Avery arrived at the entrance. It was clear she was nervous from the way she searched every corner and crevice. Evidently, she was waiting for someone. He didn’t know if this meeting was prearranged or if it was impromptu. He planned to stay hidden in the shadows as long as possible to determine her intentions.
He saw the light from her cell phone as she pulled it out of the pocket of his jacket that hung from her shoulders. She didn’t make a call, but he could see enough to know she was looking for any new voicemails, emails, or texts. From the way that she busily scrolled down the screen, it looked as if she had reached out to quite a few people. Apparently she ignored all his warnings. Avery put the phone back in her pocket and looked around the corner again before returning to the entrance of the Temple. Kalen was curious how long it would be before the entire Foundation showed up. Who was she meeting? Was it that bastard Thomas Flannigan or maybe her aunt?
Was she naive enough to contact Flannigan demanding a meeting somewhere in public, so she could get an explanation or maybe she wasn’t innocent in this whole debacle? Did she create some finely honed illusion that she was the victim when all the while she was already working for the Foundation? She certainly didn’t exhibit any signs of undying love for Dierdre. To the contrary, she seemed strangely aloof from Dierdre and her aunt.
Avery had arrived at the Temple exactly fifteen minutes after eight o’clock. The streets of Tuam were nearly deserted, as if the entire town had gone home or lingered in one of the nearby restaurants. She tried to eat something earlier, but with her nerves bubbling to the surface, it had been more of pretense than anything else. She desperately hoped once she saw Peter the guilt of leaving Kalen would disappear.
The relief she felt when she received Peter’s voicemail message momentarily smothered any remaining doubt she had about his connection with Thomas Flannigan and the Foundation. Now that she replayed the message in her head, it didn’t entirely make sense. How exactly does a board member of a historical research organization become a rogue agent? She wouldn’t call a paper pusher behind a desk of a historical research organization an agent. Besides, what interest would a board member have in her mother? It’s not as though Dierdre collected historical artifacts. She wouldn’t have been able to recognize one if it were presented to her on a silver platter.
The more she considered Peter’s message, the more apprehensive she became about meeting him. Then, she couldn’t get over the strange text she just read from Grace saying Pe
ter wasn’t trustworthy. She was probably better off taking Kalen’s advice not to trust anyone. A shiver of dread raced through Avery’s body. What did she actually know about Peter? He was always a solicitous boss and kind friend. Even when she pushed him away and indicated she wasn’t interested in an intimate relationship with him, he still supported her work at the Foundation and encouraged her to apply for openings within the Foundation that would advance her career. She suspected Peter had an affair with Grace at some point, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t her business, but it did confuse her that they kept it secret as though she were a fragile child.
She searched her memory, trying to hold onto anything that would tell her to trust Peter. Fighting her natural inclination to let someone else make decisions for her, she came to the realization she shouldn’t trust anyone; not Peter, not Grace, not Kalen, and not her so-called dad. If that meant she suffered from paranoid delusions, so be it. All she knew right now was she didn’t know anything and by coming to Ireland she’d put herself in danger. She shivered again, this time not from dread, but from the sudden awareness that someone watched her from the shadows.
She glanced at her watch again. It was eight twenty-five. Peter would be here in five minutes. Peter’s imminent arrival coupled with the feeling that someone hovered in the shadows watching made her anxious to leave. She crossed the narrow car-lined street, nearly tripping on the sidewalk in her haste to get away from the Temple Jarlath. She didn’t look toward the Temple to see if the stalker followed her, but in her peripheral vision she thought she saw some indistinct shapes moving in the shadows. Her mind screamed at her to run, but the adrenaline surging through her veins made her feel shaky to the point of clumsiness.
Don’t run from me. Who are you meeting?
Avery froze mid-step, a prickling sensation at the back of her neck. Kalen’s voice echoed through her mind again. She must be on the verge of a mental breakdown. Inhaling deeply, she visualized a wall closing around her body, protecting her. It was a trick she learned when she was a kid. She hadn’t used it forever, but it worked just as she remembered. Before she knew it, she could think clearly again.
She walked with her body close to the walls of the buildings lining the street, dragging her hand along the rough surfaces. Keeping her face trained toward the sidewalk, she hoped to blend into the scenery. She heard a car take the corner too fast, its squealing tires piercing the steady hum of music and light laughter coming from the restaurants and pubs. She quickened her pace, moving without any of the hesitation or clumsiness that plagued her earlier.
Reaching the end of the block without incident, she darted into the shadows of the closest building. She looked around contemplating her next move. Noticing light illuminating the sidewalk across the street, she moved to get a better look. When she reached the window, she pressed her head to the glass. It looked like a pub or a restaurant. Being in a public venue was always better than roaming a nearly deserted street in the dark. She reached for the heavy brass door handle and slipped into the front door.
The smell of stale beer and hot fried food assaulted her senses and coated her lungs. The pub was dimly lit, which worked in her favor. No one would get a good look at her if anyone showed up asking about her later and no one would notice her disheveled appearance. She scanned the pub for an open table and moved without delay.
Nearly collapsing into a chair at a table in the corner, she cradled her head in her hands and tried to slow her pounding heart. Taking a few deep breaths, she positioned her chair so she could see everyone who entered the pub. After nearly ten minutes of being ignored, a man came to the table and, in a thick accent, said they didn’t do table service, and she had to order at the bar if she wanted something. She nodded absently and followed him to the bar. Her earlier uneasiness prevented her from eating and even though she still felt slightly nauseous, she asked for a menu so she didn’t attract undue attention.
As she stared almost transfixed at the door, the adrenaline surge in her body faded, and her heartbeat steadied, leaving her sluggish and lethargic. When her attention waned, she rubbed her eyes, attempting to force herself to remain alert. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down until she found someplace to stay for the night and maybe not even then.
When the bartender finally handed her a menu, Avery quickly scanned it, but none of the words penetrated the haze closing over her. Instead of forcing herself to concentrate, she asked what he suggested for a light snack and she ordered it along with a cup of coffee.
Fifteen minutes later, the bartender slid her a plate of homemade chips and a cup of coffee, and she brought it back to her corner table. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, signaling an incoming text message. Knowing it was Peter, she refused to look at it. She didn’t care what he had to say to her right now and, more importantly, she had no idea how she would explain herself. She fiddled with the chips, and she even managed to eat half of the plate. When she couldn’t stomach another bite, she swiftly drained her entire cup of coffee then flagged down the waiter to bring the check.
She tossed a few bills onto the table as she checked her text messages. Her phone had vibrated two or three additional times while she ate, indicating either Peter was still waiting for her or he gave up. She hoped it was the latter. She didn’t want to deal with his anger or his solicitous attitude at the moment. More importantly, if he’d already left, she could make her way to a hotel advertised on the tourist map a block away. She would stay there tonight, alone.
Never had she felt so happy at the prospect of being alone without anything to do or anybody to call. She didn’t have any clean clothes, but she had her passport and a credit card and that would get her just about anything she needed, including new clothes in the morning. Maybe she’d even buy a bag, a weapon better than the old knife she stole from the house, and some toiletries. She would love a brush and some toothpaste. She didn’t know when if ever she could go back to her old hotel and retrieve the luggage Kalen abandoned in the hallway. No, her things probably wouldn’t be there anyway, but she wanted to get Dierdre’s car she left parked down the street from her old hotel. The keys were still in her purse, and driving would be a more effective way to get around than paying for an endless string of taxis and walking on foot. She planned to take a taxi to her car in the morning then buy clothes and supplies in Galway. It was a bigger than Tuam, and it would be easier for her to hide there.
Redirecting her attention to the text messages displayed on her phone, she confirmed three new messages, all from Peter.
“It’s 8:35 pm and I’m waiting at the Temple front gate. Are you nearby? I’ll pick you up if you text me your location.”
The second message was short.
“It is 9pm. Still waiting for you. Did you forget our meeting?”
The final message demonstrated his increasing uneasiness.
“It is 9:30. Are you okay? I’ll stay around here until 9:45pm, but I don’t want to leave if you’re nearby or in route. I’m circling the area looking for you. I have a car so I can meet you anywhere. Call or text me as soon as you get my message.”
He left his last message a few minutes ago. She couldn’t count on Peter being out of the area during her walk to the hotel.
She tapped her fingers on the table, trying to determine how to get rid of him quickly. After a few minutes, she sent Peter a text message.
“Couldn’t make it to the Temple tonight. Sorry. My phone ran out of charge, so I didn’t have access to your number. I’m staying with Dierdre’s friend tonight so don’t worry about me. She has some pictures I wanted to see. I’ll be in touch soon.”
Hovering over the send button, she almost deleted it. She shrugged, pressed send and waited to see if she received a response.
Peter responded almost immediately.
“Glad you’re safe for the night. I can come and get you if you want your own space. If not, let’s meet for breakfast in the morning. We need to talk so I can explain what
happened with Flannigan. I don’t want you to be alone. You need your friends.”
She didn’t want to exchange texts with him all night, and he seemed too eager to meet her. Hoping to get rid of him for the night, she quickly texted a response.
“Breakfast sounds great. I’ll let you know where to meet me in the morning. I’ll ask Dierdre’s friend for a suggestion close to her house. I’m turning off my phone for the night to save the battery. See you later.”
Before she could turn off the phone, Peter texted back.
“Goodnight. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”
Avery almost shut off her phone, but she decided against it. She might need it in an emergency.
Kalen watched as Avery slid out of the front door of the pub at exactly 9:55pm. She was in there so long he was beginning to think she would come out in a drunken stupor, but she seemed alert as she walked briskly down the street. She had entered the pub alone. Then, from the front window, he saw her sitting in the pub alone, never talking to anyone but the waiter. Now she left alone. Either she changed her mind about meeting with someone or the meeting was moved to a different location or time.
He hated that he couldn’t trust Avery, but her demeanor was too erratic and there was too much at stake for him ignore her suspicious behavior. He hardly knew her, but he wanted to trust her to do the right thing. Yes, do the right thing. That thought was so funny he almost laughed. He wasn’t sure what that meant anymore. He always thought that doing the right thing meant being loyal to his kind and their cause, fighting for their survival. That didn’t seem black and white any longer. For one thing, he wasn’t sure the Queen had anyone’s interest in mind but her own, and he was utterly exhausted watching her connive and manipulate the Court to retain power. Despite all his apprehensions about the Queen and her motives, he was damn sure aligning with the Foundation would constitute doing the wrong thing. Sure, at one time the Foundation may have been an enlightened organization seeking to protect human kind, but now they were nothing but a corrupt, power hungry organization that had long since lost any altruistic inclinations. No, Avery would be smart to stay far away from the Foundation. Perhaps the same thing could be said about staying away from the Queen too.
