After twenty-two years of living in the same house Dec obviously knew where to go, but the unfamiliarity of the blackness that faced him made him frightened of what he would possibility trip over, so he still relied on help to move around.
Dec was yet to fully come to grips with his blindness.
Cait and O’Donnell had been in G and Jools’s company many times when they were in Catania, but tonight was different. Tonight, Cait had invited O’Donnell over for dinner, which was a pretty social thing to do, so the rules had changed.
Instead, it was all about just chilling and cruising in each other’s company. Getting to know each other in a setting that wasn’t combative or aggressive.
Both G and Jools weren’t wandering around with blinkers on. They were totally aware of the relationship that had developed between Cait and O’Donnell: the undeniable spark that was in her eyes when his name was mentioned; how she became alive and excited when she knew they were about to meet up.
So for G and Jools, tonight was about working out what made O’Donnell tick. Like Cait, Jools instinctively knew that he had a fractured, disturbed past. She could read it in his aura, his manner, his thoughts that he projected.
But that wasn’t of concern.
Rather, it was all about what was in his heart. All they wanted for Cait was to find happiness and contentment, whatever that meant for a daughter who had The Gift. It was such a hard ask. They were both totally aware that Cait was amazing, talented, touched by the supernatural; that she was so far in front of the eight ball that the average dick would never be able to keep up with her.
In most of her dealings with other mere mortals, Cait had already won the race before the starting gun had even fired.
In their heart of hearts, G and Jools knew it would take a very special man to tame Cait. Or even keep up with her for that matter. She operated on a different plane to most people, and her bullshit antennae were ever present, so there was very little chance that the wool could ever be pulled over her eyes.
“You know G, Cait’s powers of insight and perception are strengthening every time she has an encounter,” Jools had said to G in their pillow talk the other night. “I know it’s out of your league, but I can see it in her. Each time she enters the Otherworld she gets stronger, more knowledgeable, more formidable.”
So when the others were absent from the table, Cait just zoned out, lost in her own thoughts as she traveled to another place. In her all-knowing way, Jools was totally aware of what was going down, but she held her tongue, as tonight O’Donnell was Cait’s “special” guest, and just maybe Cait had found a partner who could keep up with her.
G was particularly perceptive when it came reading people. Not in Cait or Jools’s manner, where they looked inside a person’s head and pieced together their scrambled thoughts. Rather, G had a unique ability to size person up, especially another male, and view them as a whole person.
And to G, O’Donnell ticked most of the important boxes: honest to himself, strong willed, independent, principled. He was definitely a take-no-prisoners type of guy. G also sensed that he wasn’t a person you would ever want to cross. But then again, that was important in a man. To be prepared to stand up for your rights. And O’Donnell obviously had been blessed with the smarts when brains were being handed out at birth.
But what G did find disturbing was the second person—the real man behind the polite façade—that made up O’Donnell. Another individual was there, a caged beast lingering like a dangerous shadow, always present, watching, assessing.
And where was the passion and empathy?
Just maybe my Caitie could develop that side of him if their relationship ever blossomed? G mused privately to himself.
“So tell me, Tony,” said G, picking up on Cait’s intentions, trying to establish if O’Donnell gave any credence to his daughter’s visions and contact with the Otherworld.
“What’s your take on this kid Marcus that Cait’s been on about?”
O’Donnell looked over at G and Jools, realizing that in some ways this was a test.
“Well honestly G, if you would have asked me that question three months ago, I would have said it’s all a load of bullshit. I mean, it’s impossible to predict such things, isn’t it?” O’Donnell was stating things as he saw it.
“Yeah . . . and now?” G replied, probing.
“My training still says it’s a load of crap. Impossible. But after what went down in Sicily, if Cait told me the earth was flat, I’d seriously have to consider believing her. I don’t understand how she does it . . .”
O’Donnell paused to look over in Cait’s direction and smiled. Their eyes locked for an instant, a spark of tenderness passing between them. Jools took it in, a knowing grin crossing her face.
Cait’s really serious about Tony, Jools pondered, her thoughts gathering cohesively. She sat up and took notice. There’s more to this than meets the eye. They’ve got that look between them . . .
That’s it! My God, they’ve coupled. Cait’s wondering if they’ll end up an item, she thought, the realization hitting her like a blow from a velvet sledgehammer.
“Cait absolutely has some power that I don’t understand at all, but it’s definitely there,” continued O’Donnell.
“So, to answer your question about this kid Marcus, yes, his situation has to be seriously looked at. Cait’s convinced me of that. And I’d like to ask your permission as her father . . . and mother, Jools—sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you—if Cait can work with me on this.”
“It’s real, Tony,” quipped Dec, cutting across the conversation. “I’ve seen him, and the poor kid’s really in deep shit. He’s frightened, scared, and they’re going to kill him. And soon.”
A deafening silence took over the moment with such force that you could feel the mingling thoughts as they clashed in front of them, the word “kill” bouncing around like a ball on a string.
“Does that mean you actually believe what we’re saying here, Tony?” queried Cait sarcastically, breaking the quiet.
“Sure does,” replied O’Donnell positively.
Turning toward Dec, he asked, “So what was the license plate?”
Ice was in on the mission to find Marcus, whatever that meant.
“Hey Cait. I ran the ‘Brthrn’ license plate Dec gave through the database and yeah, I got a hit.”
O’Donnell was finally onside. Against all his rational principles, he had succumbed . . . just maybe.
Yes, yes, I know Cait and Dec are onto something, O’Donnell’s little voice in his head kept yelling at him. But like, it’s all so . . . well, out there.
As much as O’Donnell still couldn’t quite comprehend Cait and Dec’s uncanny knack of knowing what was going down when all everybody else saw was just a blank screen, he knew that if Cait and him were ever going to see closure and locate Marcus that he had to give credence to their insights.
“So Tony, what came up?” Cait said in her direct, matter-of-fact tone that she always projected when she was totally engaged.
By now, O’Donnell was getting used to Cait’s almost split personality; how she could change in a heartbeat from a really nice, easygoing female to a hard, calculating, focused trooper. It confused him, frustrated him, kept him coming back, time and time again.
“Well, all I came up with was a shell company. But I couldn’t find a name.”
“Big whoop, Tony. That’s jackshit.”
“Ah yes, but I’ve got an address.”
Cait’s eyes lit up like a candle after confession.
“Now you’re talking.”
O’Donnell slid a piece of paper across the table over to Cait. They had caught up for coffee back at Cait’s old stomping ground, 21 Squares. Kiwi Dave—barista extraordinaire—was her go-to person when a caffeine hit was the only thing that could solve a problem, and he had just served them two of his finest cappuccinos.
Cait picked up O’Donnell’s note and it stopped her dead in her tracks.
“Shit Tony, Lansell Road? That’s huge money territory. Like you’re talking about the big end of town here. Anyone who lives there is überwealthy.”
“Yeah, well, there’s more to it than that,” replied O’Donnell, his voice speeding up as he spoke. He could feel it in his bones—he . . . no, they . . . were definitely onto something.
“It’s one of those houses that’s been bought by an overseas investment company. You know—you read about it in the papers from time to time. Some overseas gazillionaire needs to park a lazy twenty or thirty mil and buys a property in Melbourne to add to his international portfolio, then never lives there.”
Cait went silent for a millisecond, processing what she was hearing before continuing.
“Or his spoiled brat of a child moves in and rattles around in a hundred square mansion on an acre of land in the dress circle of Melbourne while they attend university here, courtesy of Daddy’s money,” retorted Cait.
“There was a kid like that when I was at uni. I still remember her name actually—Hui Yin. We could never quite pronounce it, and she used to get really pissed off. Her father was some Chinese billionaire. She lived alone in his Toorak megamansion.”
Cait paused to drag out a forgotten memory.
“Well . . . not exactly alone, actually. Apparently she had a whole bunch of servants who looked after her. She even had a chauffeur who used to drop her off and pick her up when she had lectures.”
“Okay, so you know what I mean,” said O’Donnell. “Sort of.
“Except this place has been empty for over a year now,” added O’Donnell, morphing into operational mode.
“I did some sniffing around, and word from above told me the house is on the AFP watch list. Whoever owns it is into some seriously bad shit. The boys in blue have been waiting nearly twelve months for someone to show up.”
“So the AFP will be interested in Marcus, assuming he’s being held there?” queried Cait.
“Sort of. But I can’t go to the investigating coppers on the strength of a premonition. I’d be laughed out of the department.”
Cait understood totally.
She’d seen it before when she tried to help the police with information about her own kidnappers eighteen months ago. Sorenson, the detective in charge of her investigation, had scoffed at her visions—understandably. He was such an arrogant, chauvinistic oaf. So Cait ended up taking matters into her own hands and tracking down her attackers herself.
And the main perpetrator in her abduction—Boss-man, the bikie, the sergeant at arms of the Warlocks—was now no longer. Strangely, he had met an unfortunate ending at the hands of Cait and was now rotting in the ground, six feet under.
He had died a blubbering mess, his fractured body damned for all eternity.
“But if we can prove there’s a crime about to be committed there . . .”
“Exactly,” said O’Donnell, an excited edge to his voice. “So let’s go. Take a drive out there, see what we can find.”
Another mission was falling into place. Except this time it was just the two of them. And the boys in blue from the AFP of course.
“Good news,” said O’Donnell, speaking to Cait on his mobile. “The SWAT team are on their way to Lansell Road. And that Mercedes with the ‘Brthrn’ license I took a photo of? It really clinched the deal. The mission’s a goer.”
Ice paused momentarily.
“The brass have been looking for an excuse to enter the property for the past twelve months. We’ve given them one, so they’re onside.”
O’Donnell and Cait had just completed a recon of the house from the street and there it was, exactly as Dec had described it in his vision: a black car in the driveway with the registration plate, ‘Brthrn.’ And two rather obvious guards patrolling around the entrance gates, adding further validity to their suspicions.
Glancing up the long winding drive, O’Donnell’s trained eye picked movement further inside the property. A few quick “tourist” shots by Ice of his “girlfriend” as they casually ambled down Lansell Road past the property, the camera somehow conveniently missing Cait entirely and instead taking a series of shots straight up the driveway, and that was it.
O’Donnell finally had enough proof to go back to his superiors and plead his case. He rang them as he walked down the road.
Reaching where they had parked their cars, Cait excitedly jumped in her vehicle and drove home, pumped and on tenterhooks, anxiously waiting for the next update.
Things were happening.
Ice had morphed into full-on operational mode. He was totally focused, driving straight to AFP headquarters to report what they had just seen. Plus he now had enough hard evidence that a crime was about to go down, so he was able at last to add in Cait’s heads-up about Marcus’s kidnapping.
But he had left out Marcus’s sacrifice. That was just way too over the top. He was dealing with by-the-book coppers after all, and there was no way they would understand.
After minimal deliberation—less than an hour—the brass were convinced and put the case on high alert. A SWAT team was armed and immediately dispatched to raid and discover. The good guys finally had enough evidence to forcefully enter the property.
But Soran wasn’t in on the deal.
His latest sacrifice—Marcus—was due to be dispatched tonight, regardless of what else happened. The Gatekeeper’s craving for the fresh energy that only an adolescent could provide him with was becoming intoxicating. Like a heroin hit for a junkie, he had to devour another soul.
Nothing could stop him in his quest to recharge his presence on earth. He was invincible.
Certainly not this frustratingly annoying nonentity bitch that kept challenging him in the Otherworld. He had fought her before and she was a nothing. He knew they would meet again. Then he would destroy her. Totally. But not until he had recharged himself with the life force that his latest sacrifice would bestow upon him.
Soran had other covens around the world preparing fresh adolescent meat for him to devour. It had been that way since Eve had offered Adam the apple. However, their souls were for another time. Tonight he would feast on Marcus.
It was predetermined. All the preparations had already been completed by the Brethren.
And Soran was currently entrenched in Cait’s head, invading her thoughts, trying to take control. She could feel him, dragging at her very self.
“Don’t allow him in, Cait,” whispered her grandmothers protectively, their supportive words urgently rushing around inside her brain. “This is your world, not his. The Gatekeeper is not one of us. He’s from the dark side and must be banished.”
Cait had grown since their last encounter—matured and strengthened—and Soran couldn’t crack though the powerful protection of the force field that Cait and her grandmothers had erected around her this time round.
She was becoming omnipotent. Immune to his threats.
Earth was Cait’s domain and she held the power. As opposed to Soran’s, which in this mortal world was limited and currently diminishing. And tonight was the night to steal from him.
To save Marcus.
Regardless of Soran’s fading powers in the corporeal world, he could still see, feel, sense Cait. For the first time in eons, the Gatekeeper knew he had an adversary who was able to challenge him. But their contact through the ether was on a plane that only the two of them were privy to.
Cait was dangerous, formidable, threatening. A woman with the accumulated knowledge of a thousand years, whom he knew he had to take particular note of.
And this invader into his world had to be overcome.
So Soran directed his servants—the Brethren brothers—to immediately relocate Marcus to an abandoned warehouse in Port Melbourne.
But Cait was onto the evil beast. She was growing in strength at his expense. Metamorphosing into a powerful Otherworld force, a deadly sentient being who sucked in Soran’s energy like a parasite whenever he appeared in her head, she diminished his
power in this mortal world. And Cait was totally in touch with Marcus . . . and he was on the move.
She was tracking him in her head.
“Tony, it’s urgent. Marcus has been relocated,” said Cait desperately over the phone to O’Donnell. He was currently on his way to Lansell Road to meet up with the SWAT team.
“Marcus has been moved to Port Melbourne. An abandoned warehouse. 352 Plummer Street. I’m going in.”
Cait was on a mission. And time was critical. Marcus was about to have his beating heart cut out from his chest, just like James. She couldn’t let another innocent child suffer the same horrible and painful death that James had endured, only to end up lost, drifting for eternity in the Gatekeeper’s evil abyss.
Cait felt she had no other option. She had to strike now. It was her parting promise to James.
“No! You can’t, Cait. It’s way too dangerous. Wait for me,” pleaded O’Donnell desperately.
But he knew what Cait was like. She had the determination of a religious zealot.
There was no way she would listen, but he still had to try.
Cait—someone O’Donnell suddenly realized he really cared about more than her just being a casual acquaintance—was about to walk into a battleground that she had no experience in.
And he knew the outcome wouldn’t be pretty. These guys weren’t just criminals. They were professionals who wouldn’t flinch at pulling a trigger.
The three-shot kill was part of their job: one bullet to the head and two to the chest. With no reservations or second thoughts.
Ice knew exactly how they would react.
He used to be one of them.
Ice skidded to a halt, pulling into the empty parking lot of the logistics building next door to the warehouse Cait had seen in her head. It was Saturday afternoon and the adjoining warehouse was closed, so their large lot was empty . . . except for a black Mercedes with the license plate ‘Brthrn,’ a black Jeep 4WD, a gray Volkswagen people mover with dark tinted windows . . . and Cait’s car.
The Cait Lennox Box Set Page 75
