Predator (6 page)

Bree shrugged. “You think they’ll find her?”

Her dad swirled the ice in his drink. “I hope so. I’d love to find out what she’s so afraid of.”

Bree smiled; she couldn’t help it. Only her dad could be more curious than angry at a time like this. And now he had her wondering too.

Her dad’s cell rang from the other room. He set his drink next to the TV and went to answer it.

After a few minutes of quiet conversation, all went silent.

She peered into her dad’s room and found him with his head down and his face in his hands. “Dad, what’s wrong?”

He looked up at her with tears in his eyes. “That was General Maberry.”

Bree couldn’t breathe. “It’s Andy, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “Andy’s body is slowly shutting down. He begged me, pleaded with me to do something, anything, to save his son…and I couldn’t. I didn’t know what to say. If only I had worked harder and figured out a way to perfect the wound repair serum, Troy and all those soldiers…they’d be…they’d still be alive.”

Bree kneeled in front of her dad. When he raised his head, she was surprised to see tears streaking his cheeks. “But Andy’s still alive. There’s still time to save him.”

He shook his head. “When Andy was first injured he was crying out from pain. Now he’s just an empty shell. He hasn’t made a sound in weeks. I don’t know which is worse: saving him on the battlefield to have him end up like this or not saving him at all.”

“How long does he have?” Bree asked.

“Weeks, maybe a few months at most.”

“You have to think, Dad. There has to be something we can do to fix the serum so the wound repair process doesn’t reverse.”

He sighed so quietly, as if he barely had the energy to simply breathe. “If I knew what it was, I would have done it already. And even if I could figure something out, it could take years before it’s ready. Andy doesn’t have that kind of time.”

“But if we don’t save Andy,” Bree said with a hitch in her voice, “then Troy will have died for nothing.”

He turned his head away from her. “You don’t think I know that, Bree? That Troy sacrificed his life to save Andy’s? I think about it every single day.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said. “I miss him too, you know. A lot.”

He swallowed hard. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“We’ll figure it out, Dad. I know we will.”

He wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands, nodded, and took a deep breath. “The answer has to lie in the preservation properties of bog bodies. I just know it. But for the life of me I can’t figure out how.”

She stood. “You said the acid in the peat preserves the flesh, right?”

“Yes.”

“So, we’re not looking to preserve the flesh. We need to transform it into something else, so we can permanently repair it.”

“Okay…”

“So what if that hand’s really from a lycanthrope?”

“I’m not getting where you’re going with this, Bree.”

“Lycanthropes transform, right? Maybe there are some clues in there.”

He stared at her but said nothing. Bree tried to get a feel for what he was thinking, but couldn’t; his face was as blank as a fresh sheet of paper. Then he smiled and said, “You might be onto something. If that hand’s from a lycanthrope, we could try adding the transformative properties in the DNA from the hand to the wound repair serum. That just might stop the healing process from reversing.”

She lit up when she saw the spark of innovation return to her dad’s eyes. “But we’d have to figure out how to make the transformation process only go one way.”

“But it could work.”

“Are you going to tell General Maberry?” she asked.

“Not yet. I don’t want to give him any false hope. But when I do, I wish I could tell him it was your idea.”

Bree smiled. “I still have plenty of time to make my mark on the world. I’m just glad you trusted me enough to tell me about the wound repair serum.”

“You didn’t leave me much choice.”

“Yeah, I guess not.” She thought back to that spring day when she’d confronted her dad, screaming and yelling at him like crazy. She’d cornered him in his home office and demanded to know what was so important at work that he was barely home anymore. He’d refused to tell her at first, said it was classified. But when she threatened to run away and never come back, Bree witnessed something she had never hoped to see: she watched her dad break. He curled forward as if slowly deflating until his shoulders started to shake. When he finally could speak, he confessed for the first time how much Troy’s death had hurt him and how he was working so hard to save other severely injured soldiers.

She said, “We can still save Andy—and countless other soldiers with him.”

Her dad touched her arm gently and nodded. “We need sleep. And tomorrow, we need to find out more about the hand.”

Doolin’s Pub, Largheal, Ireland

Inside Doolin’s, a former pub on the edge of town that now catered to the underage crowd, Bree spied Liam sitting at a table in the far corner with his hands wrapped around a glass. He waved Bree over. As she crossed the room, she took in everything: the long, carved wooden bar topped with huge jars of candy, the clusters of oak whiskey cask tables and stools, the concert posters covering the walls, and the Galway GAA sports memorabilia. Groups of teens huddled together at the tables, talking and drinking and dancing to the music coming from speakers above the bar.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Bree said as she pulled out a chair and sat. She leaned in closer so she could hear him better over the music.

“I’m surprised your da didn’t mind you going out at this hour.”

“I didn’t exactly tell him.”

“Your text said it was important. What’s up?”

“So…um…back there in the lab,” Bree said, “when we were talking about the hand and the whole Kelsi and the flashlight thing you…you seemed upset when I told you I almost bashed her head with the flashlight. Then you turned your back to me and sounded kind of angry when you said I wasn’t a murderer.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Bree nodded. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. And believe me, I tried. It was like someone turned on a motor in my head and revved it up to high.”

“I didn’t mean it. It’s just that…” Liam sighed and cast his eyes around the room.

Bree shifted in her seat, puzzled. “What?” she said. “What is it?”

Liam hesitated and then slid his chair closer to hers. He fiddled with his straw before continuing. “I guess I’ll just say it and get it over with. When I was two my biological parents were murdered.” His voice broke on the final word.

“Liam,” Bree said, unable to say more. She reached under the table and touched his knee; his leg was shaking like crazy.

Liam stared off into the distance. “Some guy killed them trying to rob their jewelry store.” He swallowed hard and shuddered.

“No,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

Liam crossed his arms and shifted so he faced her. “It’s okay. Just forget it.”

“Forget it?”

“It was a long time ago and it’s behind me. I barely remember them.” He broke eye contact with her as if he was ashamed, and so very sad, to admit it.

“But you said you used to go fishing a lot with your dad.”

Liam nodded. “There’s a bunch of pictures of us fishing and at my birthday parties and playing in the park but, like I said, I don’t remember any of it. I can’t even remember what my ma smelled like or my da’s voice. I wish I did.” He paused and took a deep breath. “My aunt and uncle and Finn are my family now. I just wanted you to know why I reacted like I did. I hope you didn’t think I was mad at you or anything.”

“Liam,” Bree said, wanting to tell him so much. About her own loneliness and feelings of loss, and missing her mom and Troy.

It never left her.

She tried to smile, even though she was filled with sadness. “I didn’t think that, not for a second.”

“Good because I wouldn’t want it to change anything between us.”

“It doesn’t. We’re good. But are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

Liam shook his head. “I’m fine.” He pushed back his chair abruptly and stood. “It’s late and I’m beat, and you must be too. I’ll walk you back to the hotel.”

“Wait. I want to talk to you about the hand.”

Liam sat and Bree continued. “There are some links here that just don’t make sense. Everything’s not adding up. I need to figure out how the marks on the body, the monstrous hand, and the item from under the knee are all connected. My dad’s not really focused on the big picture. He’s just interested in his research and how my discoveries can help further it, but there’s more to it than that.”

“Maybe you need to research some more, find some clues. I know a guy who might be able to help us. If he doesn’t have some answers, no one will. I’ll make plans for us to meet up with him tomorrow night.”

“That’d be great.”

They left Doolin’s and headed down the street. Liam laced his soft and gentle fingers through Bree’s. As warmth spread into her hand, she felt stronger and more beautiful.

A few minutes later, they reached a narrow alley sandwiched between two shops. Bree heard a noise and peered into the dark space. A scrawny dog was scavenging for food in trash cans.

But Bree couldn’t shake off the feeling that they might be in danger. It stuck with her just like it did when she was home alone at night and the house creaked.

She looked all around. No one appeared to be following them. But that didn’t mean someone wasn’t there. Could it be that guy in the gray sweatshirt? Or the woman in the red jacket? Or the old man swinging the unopened umbrella?

“What’s wrong?” Liam asked.

“I think someone’s following us.”

Liam scoured the area behind him. “I don’t see anyone suspicious.”

“Neither do I. But the feeling’s so strong.”

“There’s a cinema up ahead,” Liam said. “We can duck in there.”

Picking up the pace, they made their way to the end of the block and stopped at the intersection to allow a car to pass. Bree saw a flash of green disappear into a store’s entranceway. “There. Did you see that?”

“What?” Liam spun around.

“Three stores down. Someone in green.”

“No, but let’s move it just in case.”

The box office was dark, but they pushed their way into the lit lobby. From behind the concession counter, an elderly woman shot them a puzzled look and said, “Last film’s almost over. You should come back tomorrow.”

“We’re good,” Liam said. “I just wanted to show her all the old posters.” He gestured to the wall but kept his eye on the door.

The woman wiped down the counter with a rag.

“You see anyone?” Liam asked Bree.

She looked around. “No, you?”

He shook his head. “No one’s gonna bother us in here. Let’s just wait till the movie lets out and head back to the hotel. The streets will be crowded and we’ll be fine.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Exhaling loudly, she stepped closer to the wall and checked the door again before focusing on the posters. Some were in black and white; others were in color. The posters were old, and she hadn’t seen most of the movies, but she was drawn to the illustrations.

“My mom and I watched that movie dozens of times,” Bree said, pointing to a
My Fair Lady
poster. “We’d send my dad out for the day, and we’d drink tea out of black and white cups and sing along so loudly I’d get hoarse by the end of the movie. It was so much fun.” She paused, briefly overcome with grief. “I’d give anything to watch it again with her.”

“I know what you mean,” Liam said. “What you and your ma had…it was something really special. Don’t ever forget that.”

People spilled out of the movie theater and flooded the lobby—their excited voices echoed off the walls in the small space—and Bree welcomed the noise and the movement. “Let’s go,” she said. “We can get lost in the crowd.”

Moving as fast as they could without separating from the others, Bree and Liam headed back to the hotel. Bree kept checking behind her expecting to see the person in green but didn’t. And what would she do anyway if she saw him? Run? Scream? Punch him in the face?

The foot traffic decreased the closer they got to the hotel as people headed off in different directions. A car zipped down the street. Music blared from an open window above a dry cleaner. They reached the end of the block, crossed the intersection, and approached the hotel.

The petite doorwoman smiled and said, “Good evening” as she heaved open the door for them.

After Liam assured Bree he’d take a taxi instead of walking home, they said good night. Bree rode the elevator to the eighth floor, walked straight to her room, dug the key card out of her pocket, and opened the door. The elevator
dinged
down the hall and someone stepped off, but Bree didn’t dare look. Heart pounding, she rushed inside and closed the door quickly behind her. She tried to be quiet, but the knob slipped from her hand and the door slammed shut.

Loud enough to wake her dad.

Mashey Hotel, Largheal, Ireland

Bree’s dad caught her with one arm still in her jacket.

He stood with his eyebrows raised and his hands on his hips.

Bree wanted to run into his arms so he could hold her tight, make her feel safe again like he did when she was little, but she couldn’t. If she told him how she felt, how scared she was, he’d never let her go out on her own again.

“You snuck out” was his simple accusation. Without waiting for a rebuttal he added, “What in the world possessed you to do such a thing? It’s after midnight, and God knows who’s walking the streets at this hour. You could have been mugged
or worse
.”

Bree’s hands trembled. She knew all too well that he was right. If someone had followed her and Liam it wasn’t for a good reason. And what if that person had decided to hurt her? What then?

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I—I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk.” She pulled her arm out of the jacket and flung the jacket onto a chair.

“By yourself, this late at night? Come on, Bree. You know better than that.”