Broken Heart 05 Over My Dead Body (20 page)

Shit. Oh, shit.

Jacob hissed as he pressed his fangs against my neck, his tongue flickering like a slimy snake’s.

“Stop it!” I strained against the bonds. “Get away from me!”

The manacles glowed blue, and once again pain screamed into every nerve ending. I sucked in a useless breath, my eyes aching with the need to cry.

“Would it help,” he said in Brady’s voice, “if I sounded like this?”

His hand cupped my breast.

I wanted to vomit. “Get. The. Fuck. Off. Me!”

He laughed and backed off. “Darlene wasn’t nearly as . . . resistant.”

I realized what he was saying: He knew Darlene. And now she’d disappeared.

“You remember what it was like when you disappointed me?” Jacob reached out and stroked my cheek with one finger. His nail scraped my cheek. “She was weak, Simone. But you, you surprised me.”

“How long have you been here?” I asked, my voice trembling. And then another more terrible thought occurred. “You . . . killed Rick and Shawn!”

He didn’t answer, but his eyes flashed with malice. Oh, Jesus. He’d killed my donor and poor Shawn. And God knew who else. My gorge rose. “M-Marissa,” I whispered. “Did you hurt her, too?”

He shrugged. “She looks a lot like Glory, doesn’t she?”

Dumbfounded, I stared at him. Did he mean Marissa had been killed because someone thought she was Glory . . . or that she wasn’t?

A door opened on the opposite side of the room. Jacob turned off his flashlight and moved away. Thank God. I sagged in relief. The sharp projections inside the cuffs eased up. Ah. I got it now. No struggling equaled no pain.

I heard a buzzing noise, and the overhead lights flickered on.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” asked the man striding into the room. “I told you not to have contact with the prisoner.”

Jacob stood at attention and saluted. “With all due respect, General, she is my wife.”

“Out. Do not disobey my orders again or you’ll find yourself pinned to the wall.”

Jacob saluted the man again, then marched out of the room. I felt a smidgen of satisfaction at Jacob’s upbraiding. But I didn’t fool myself that I’d seen the last of him, or that he wouldn’t find another way to torment me.

I studied this new threat. He was short and squat, his face as flat as an iron. He had steely gray eyes and a haircut that made the top of his skull look like a wire brush. He was dressed in the same black outfit as the others.

“I’m going to give you a choice, Simone. You help us, and you get your little girl back and relocation to a safe house.”

“Or?”

“Or I kill you.” His tone held neither persuasion nor threat. He merely expected me to do what he wanted. Well, hell. Why bother with the illusion of choice?

“What, exactly, would I be helping you with?”

“We are executing a plan that will protect this country from the terrorist threat presented by supernaturals. The biggest congregation of parakind ever in the United States will happen in two days. We must nullify this menace.”

“It’s a religious gathering,” I said, horrified.

“We are aware of Patricia Marchand and her . . . condition. We cannot allow two of the most powerful segments of supernaturals to unite. Or breed.” Disgust wormed across his face.

He was crazy. Not once in the history of humans had parakind attempted to take over. Granted, the Wraiths wanted to rule over their human prey, but they never made it past warring with other vampires. Parakind took care of their own problems. Besides, there weren’t really enough of us to take over the state of Texas, much less all of America.

I felt chilled to the bone, and not because I was hanging from the wall in just my underclothing. Jacob was a vampire. Someone had Turned him, knowing what he would be doing as part of ETAC. “You’re using supernaturals to fight on your behalf. Isn’t that hypocritical?”

“We utilize the enemy’s tactics in order to defeat them.” He stood before me, his eyes as hard and flat as pebbles. “I assure you that we will be victorious.”

“Then why do you need me?”

“Your vampire gifts, in particular your water powers, will help us implement certain strategies. In addition, you are in close contact with Braddock Hayes, a man we intend to reacquire.”

They couldn’t have Brady. I’d give them everything else, but not him. He’d escaped from ETAC and tried to make up for all that he’d done.

Maybe it was time that I did the same.

“If you agree to our terms, you’ll be released from your imprisonment and briefed. After you complete your mission, you and your daughter will be relocated.”

Where? To Guantánamo Bay? I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck. Even if he kept his word, he wouldn’t let Glory and me go off on our own. The relocation would surely be somewhere they could control our movements. Or worse, we could be the next in line for experimentation.

I hated to think what he had in mind if I chose death before dishonor.

I did not want to betray my friends. I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. But most of all, I didn’t want my daughter to pay the price for my mistakes. I would do anything for Glory. All I had to do was figure out a way to save Broken Heart, too.

Yeah. Easy peasy.

“All right,” I said. “But I want to see my daughter.”

“That can be arranged.” The General grabbed a wrist chain, yanking on it. The nails jabbed my wrist, and I yelped. Damn it! “If you do not do exactly what you are told, both you and your daughter will die. I do not give second chances, Simone.”

I nodded. The General terrified me. He was as cold and methodical as a robot, no more interested in emotion than a lycanthrope was in eating a salad.

I had no idea how I was going to help ETAC complete its insane mission and save everyone I cared about. Maybe it wasn’t possible.

But I had to try.

I’d been allowed to dress in the clothing they’d confiscated from me, everything but my shoes. Like I had a knife or a mini-C4 explosive tucked into my Nikes. Paranoid freaks. I was a mom and a mechanic, not James Bond. Besides, a vampire’s weapons were part and parcel of the whole blood-sucking gig: fangs, speed, strength, and glamour. That explained why, as I followed the General down the dimly lit hallway, two men dressed like cyborg Rambos marched behind me. They both carried the black rifles that probably issued blue beams of death.

Gran. My heart clenched. Was she really dead? Or had she survived? And poor George. He could’ve turned to ash after I was carted away.

We stopped in front of a door. It looked as thick and secure as a bank vault. He pointed to the slit in the middle.

I had to stand on my tippy-toes, but I managed to look through it. Behind the sliver of glass, I saw two children. They each occupied a bed. Tubes were placed in their nostrils and an IV snaked from their left arms.

Helpless rage pounded like primal drums. My daughter was in the right bed, her eyes closed, her small chest rising and falling under the thin covers.

The other bed held a boy with shaggy blond hair and Brad Pitt looks. He looked eleven, maybe twelve years old. He reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t place who.

“What the hell is this?” I gritted out. “What did you to do them?”

“They’re sleeping. The drugs are harmless, at least in their current dosage.”

Oh, my God. I lowered to my feet, my palms flat against the door so I could stay upright. My legs felt like wet noodles.

“If you fail, we will turn up the dosage to a fatal, irreversible amount. Your end will not be as . . . easy.”

Terror paid me another visit. It settled heavy and icy in the place where my heart used to beat. My daughter was in danger, danger that her own father put her in again, and here I was, wishing I’d shot my husband with all three bullets. In his head.

“You son of a bitch!”

“I suggest you rein in your temper, Simone,” said the General curtly. “You don’t have the luxury of being an emotional wreck. I’ll take you to the briefing room, and you’ll memorize everything I tell you. You will do each thing in order and at the correct time.”

What choice did I have? They had Glory. I’d make nice until they returned me to Broken Heart. Then I would find a way to communicate with someone. No, with Brady. He would believe me. He would help us.

I could rely on him.

“One more thing,” said the General as he led the way into the briefing room, “if you tell anyone about our agreement, the deal is off and your lives are forfeited.”

I said nothing. I cast my gaze to the table as I sat in a chair across from his. It was the same kind of threat Jacob used to issue—as if guilt, low self-esteem, and base fear weren’t enough to keep me in line. If you tell anyone, you’ll wish you hadn’t.

That bullshit didn’t work anymore. The General could blather on all he wanted about ultimatums. I’d find a way out, and this time, I would ask for help.

“Listen carefully,” said the General.

I did.

I woke up on the pier, my hand dangling over the side. They’d used the silver gun on me again, all in the name of protecting their location. Why dump me here? Why not inside my house? Or even at my garage?

Water splashed against my hand. I rose to a sitting position and stared down into the shimmering water. Everything would be all right. So long as I killed everyone in town, betrayed the man I was falling in love with, and threw every one of my principles out the window. I—

“Simone.”

I was so relieved to hear Brady’s voice, I scrambled to my feet and turned, intending to . . .

Brady stood on the pier, staring at me like he didn’t recognize me. He was dressed in his ETAC uniform. The belt around his trim waist was filled with gadgets—and weapons.

I walked toward him, my hands out in supplication. I could trust him. He promised that nothing would change between us. And I believed him. “Brady.”

“Why did you disappear?” His words were clipped.

Do not reveal to anyone where you’ve been or that you’ve been in contact with ETAC. The General had offered the warning in his concise, empty tone. They’d stuck a tracking device in my shoulder, in the unlikely event I got a case of the stupids and tried to run away. Worse, they could hear everything I said.

When I offered no answers, his lips thinned and he shot me a look of disgust. “How could you, Simone? She was your grandmother. And George was just a nice guy.”

My belly shook with nausea. Foreboding clambered up my spine. “What are you talking about?”

Regret sliced his expression, but only for a second. He removed a pistol from his belt and aimed it at me. “You shot them,” he said, “with a gun you stole from me.”

I couldn’t explain how George and Gran got shot, since that would mean admitting that ETAC was in Broken Heart. I’m sure it was only a matter of time before someone realized it, though with all the paranormals streaming into town and the festival preparations, everyone was preoccupied.

I couldn’t figure out how to communicate with Brady—at least not without giving myself away to the assholes listening in. Then I remembered: We shared a telepathic bond.

Brady?

Get out of my head.

Hurt, I stared at him. His face was as hard as granite, and the gun pointed at my head was rock steady. He looked as though he might actually pull the trigger.

I couldn’t bear to see the judgment in his eyes. I didn’t understand why the guys who grabbed me used a gun stolen from Brady. If they could get to his weapons cache, why the hell couldn’t they get to him?

“Brady,” I said. “Please.”

He shook his head. “No more lies, Simone.”

Lies? What lies? I looked at him, helpless.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go.”

I believed that ETAC had a backup plan if I failed. All I knew for sure was that if I didn’t complete the three tasks by tomorrow at midnight, it was all over for me and Glory.

You will disable the Invisi-shield, said the General, but without destroying it. We want the posts intact. The damage should be incurred during the last hour before dawn.

I didn’t see how I would complete the first directive, and I was trying really hard not to panic. I had to figure a way out of this. Now.

Apparently, there was a gun missing from Brady’s personal arsenal. The blue beams were not bullets. All laser signatures were the same. I’d never been to Brady’s quarters, much less to the facility that housed his weaponry.

I hadn’t expected to be accused of trying to shoot Gran and George, much less be targeted as the prime suspect in the murders of Rick, Shawn, and Dunmore. In addition, they’d thrown in the missing Darlene as Murder Victim #4.

The only person I had not been accused of killing was Marissa. That one they couldn’t pin on me for a variety of reasons, so the theory about my killing rampage now included the idea that I had a partner.

I sat as a hostage in my own living room as Brady explained everything to me in a voice so devoid of emotion he reminded me of the General.

Damian and Patrick had arrived, along with Patsy and Gabriel. I supposed we didn’t need the full complement of Broken Heart citizens to watch my accusers humiliate me. Besides, the queen had all seven powers of the Ancients. She could boil, fry, or freeze me at her discretion.

“I would never, ever hurt a child, nor be associated with someone sick enough to hurt a child.” I glared at everyone. Look at what I had done to protect Glory from her own father. Not that anyone here knew it. “You really, truly think I did this? That I not only killed people—for no apparent reason, but that I also consorted with a child murderer?”

“No,” said Patsy. “I’ve been in the presence of true evil, Simone. And that’s not you. But we gotta figure out what’s going on here.”

“Consider the victims,” said Damian. “Rick and Shawn were both your donors. Your phone call sent Dunmore to Darlene’s. And Darlene disappeared that same day.”

And Marissa had been found in the creek by my house. I got it. I did. I had a connection to everyone who’d died. But I’d watched enough CSI to know that they were missing one important element: motivation.