Tentyrian Legacy (46 page)

I saw Stavros’ lip curl in response; his ice
blue eyes were practically shooting daggers. I felt his hand dig
into my waist, and I wanted to flinch under his strong grip, but I
maintained my composure. The senator’s reaction was my saving
grace. It was priceless, in fact. He burst out laughing and almost
spilled his gin and tonic.

“I couldn’t agree more, Laura! That’s why I
fired my old strategist to begin with! He was an idiot. Now I’ve
got some slick agency using words like ‘Facebook’ and ‘Twitter,’
not that I understand the faintest thing about technology. I’m so
old-fashioned I still dictate to my secretary to type up my
e-mails!” he said.

“Well, it sounds like you are well on your
way to a successful reelection, Senator. And there is nothing wrong
with old-fashioned. It’s those values we need in our government.
You have my vote,” I replied. I wanted to vomit in my mouth, but I
felt Stavros’ grip gentle, and I gave him and the senator my most
charming smile. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I want to say
hello to some ladies I recognize from my Junior League days.”

As I excused myself and walked toward a group
of women I’d never met before in my life, I heard my victory spoken
by the senator. “That girl is special, Stavros. Don’t let that one
go.”

“I don’t think I will Senator,” I heard
Stavros reply. Shivers went up my spine.

I introduced myself to the women, who looked
more like vicious peacocks in their colorful ensembles and
suspicious stares than socialites. Stavros instructed me not to
discuss our relationship or even bring up his name, not that they
bothered to ask. While the women didn’t bite, they coolly viewed me
as an interloper on their inner circle and tried to ignore me as
much as possible. Like I care, I thought.

As I stand here now, I’m only halfheartedly
listening to the farce of a conversation about the “best” private
schools. I am never having children if this is what it turns you
into. These women are moronic. I keep my eyes trained on Stavros
and Cromwell. They begin to walk toward the house, leaving the polo
field. I want to follow, but I’m going to need a cover. I grab the
arm of the unmarried woman next to me, Margaret, who looks unlikely
to squawk at my rude behavior. Feigning a terrible sense of
direction, I ask her to help me find the powder room. I also tell
her that I saw a handsome gentleman eyeing her from the bar who I
just have to tell her about. That does the trick, and she comes
with me willingly.

Linked arm in arm, I prattle some nonsense
about a guy in a navy blazer with dark hair, which could fit the
description of half the men here. Margaret is instantly engaged.
From one of the server’s trays, I lift a glass of champagne and
replace her empty. As we walk slowly, she starts to hypothesize on
who the “mystery man” is and begins to lay out her current dating
situation. With my distracted and bubbling companion, I lead us in
pursuit of the men but am careful to keep a distance. Once we reach
the house, I’m almost positive I see them go down the right-hand
corridor. So that’s where we head.

“Laura, I’m sure the bathroom is the other
way,” says Margaret, interrupting our stealthy pursuit.

“Yes, but those are the ones everyone else is
using and I heard there is no staff monitoring them. They are
verging on unsanitary. I heard someone say that there is an
additional guest bathroom this way. You said that Thomas has a
yacht, by the way? How marvelous!”

Between her exclamations about her heart’s
desire’s immense wealth, I notice that Cromwell’s guards are now
stationed outside of two closed doors. It must be the senator’s
office. Who am I kidding; I have no way of listening outside the
door with the security detail there. So I lead Margaret down an
alternate corridor, and eventually I do find a guest bathroom.
Shutting the door behind me and leaving Margaret to continue her
self-absorbed chatter on the other side, I formulate an alternate
game plan.

Stavros and the senator won’t stay behind
closed doors long—it’s the senator’s party, after all. I just need
to kill time and keep Margaret with me as a safety, and maybe I can
see if there are any relevant files or documents in the office. It
did sound like Cromwell wasn’t the savviest with technology, so
maybe he keeps paper files? I notice there is very little toilet
paper roll left. I quickly unravel it all and flush it. “Okay,
Margaret, your turn. So do you think that he’ll take you to his
parent’s house in Antigua this winter?” I say while ushering her
into the bathroom. I shut the door and let her do her thing. It’s
amazing she doesn’t stop talking until she realizes her
predicament.

“Oh no, Laura, there is no more toilet
paper!”

“Are you sure, Margaret? I thought I saw an
extra roll?”

“No. Not here. And there isn’t any under the
sink.”

“Okay, no worries. Let me grab you some. I’ll
be back in a flash. I think there is even another guest room right
next to this one . . .”

As fast as my heels will take me, I trot out
of the room and back down the hall toward the office. The security
detail is gone, and fortunately there is no one else in the hall.
With a quick look both ways, I open the door and slip inside. I
need to hustle. Stavros is probably looking for me, and I’ve left
Margaret sitting on a toilet. The thick desk with its leather
blotter is littered with papers. I have no idea what I’m looking
for. But surely anything important wouldn’t just be sitting out.
There is no computer, which means I may be in luck. I walk over to
the credenza and open the filing drawers in search of “T” for
Trebuchet, the name of Stavros’ business.

As my fingers crawl over the alphabet, I’m
shocked they aren’t trembling. If I get caught, it’s over. I find
the Trebuchet folder, and inside I see what looks like pages and
pages of blueprints and invoices for weapons. But everything looks
the same, and I can’t exactly take the whole file and shove it in
my dress. However, one paper catches my eye. There is no
letterhead; it’s just a list of ten different addresses in
different countries. I fold the paper into a small square and shove
it in my underwear. Shoes and even bras can come off easily but not
the underwear . . .

I close the credenza and exit the study. But
just as I’m opening the door, I collide with someone on the other
side. I hear a clatter, followed by breaking glass. To my relief,
it’s just a waiter.

“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry,” I apologize. “I
was just looking for the bathroom . . .”

“It’s okay, ma’am. No harm done.” The young
man blushes as he squats down to pick up the glass shards.

“Let me help you,” I say as I reach down to
help. But he assures me he has it. His cheeks turn an even darker
red. Not wanting to embarrass him any further, for something that
is already my fault, I apologize once again and turn to go.

“Can I have some of these?” I ask, pausing to
pick up several cocktail napkins.

“Sure,” the waiter says, looking
confused.

I hurry back to Margaret, who has likely
already decided to drip dry in my absence.

“Margaret, are you still in there?” I ask
breathlessly upon reaching the door.

“Yes. Where else would I be, Laura?” she says
irritated.

“Here you go.” I slip the cocktail napkins
under the door. “There was no toilet paper like anywhere. I can’t
believe it! The senator really needs to get a new staff. I feel
like I ran around this entire house.” Margaret answers with a flush
of the toilet and comes out, clearly peeved.

“Oh, don’t be mad at me, Margaret. I’m so
sorry.” I give her a desperate smile.

“It’s not you, Laura. It’s Thomas. He just
sent me the rudest text.” She pouts as she shoves her phone at me.
She probably didn’t even notice I was gone while she was busy
texting. Margaret is a classic case of a “clinger” with men,
fortunately for me. I take one of the extra cocktail napkins and
give my armpits a pat. And I thought preparing for a pitch was
stressful.

“Pray tell? You’ll have to give me all the
details. And we need to get another drink immediately. Maybe we can
find your mystery man once and for all,” I say, guiding us back
outside.

I’m just about to order us two lemonades when
Stavros appears at my side. Literally appears.

“Oh, hello. You startled me.” I keep my face
as innocent looking as possible.

“I’ve been looking for you. Where have you
been, Laura?” His voice is relatively pleasant, but I can hear the
menace underneath.

“Margaret and I went to the ladies room,” I
say easily. “You know how complicated these things can be . .
.”

“Oh you wouldn’t believe it. No toilet
paper!” says Margaret. “Laura is my lifesaver, though.” It seems
I’ve won the girl over with a few cocktail napkins and some boy
talk. Thank God she didn’t mention me abandoning her for close to
fifteen minutes.

“Yes, she has that way about her,” says
Stavros as he reaches out to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “I
fear we must go now, Laura. The driver is bringing the car around
now.”

“So soon?” asks Margaret. “We must see each
other again!”

“Absolutely. Why don’t I give you my phone
number?” I offer.

Margaret, acting like we’re now best friends,
couldn’t be better. After exchanging numbers, Stavros takes my
elbow and escorts me back to the front of the house.

“Are you all right in your high heels?” he
asks. “I know it’s a far walk. If you’d prefer, I can get one of
the golf carts over here to drive us up.” If this man weren’t a
vampire who intended to murder my best friend and likely me, I
might think the offer sweet.

“How thoughtful, Stavros. I’m fine. I have
your sturdy arm.” I actually manage to make myself blush as I look
at him sweetly. All I had to do was visualize the waiter’s
reaction. Thank you, method acting. As Stavros helps me into the
car, I feel the chafing reminder of what I’ve gotten myself
into—stealing addresses and cavorting with a killer. How long am I
going to be able to keep this up?

2010 AD, July

Hamilton, New Jersey, Trebuchet Global /
Ambrosine Island, Ionian Sea

The blast took us by surprise. After hours of
scoping the facilities and planning our approach, it took only ten
minutes for everything to go up in smoke. The detonator was
triggered not long after I discovered Raad, tied to a chair and
slumped over in a bloody mess. He was barely alive, his pulse
thready and inconsistent. Practically unrecognizable with his face
beaten to a pulp, it was obvious he had been tortured, and knowing
the Dark Coven, it likely wasn’t just physical abuse Raad
endured.

I directed Phi to split into pairs. Being
able to shift, I went alone to cover as many of the lab’s rooms as
I could. Fortunately, I smelled a human through an air-locked door.
It led to where Raad was held, which was more like a torture
chamber than a room. Barbaric instruments, looking like a plastic
surgeon’s tools, were freshly stained with blood and lay neatly on
a tray. Bloodied gauze bandages littered the floor.

When we burst into the lab, after cutting off
the electricity and communications systems, it was absolute
pandemonium. Subordinates sprang into action. Humans screamed, hid
under desks, and reached for their cell phones. We had the cell
phone jammer to minimize the damage control we’d ultimately have to
do, but little did we know just how vast the damage would be. The
Brothers went to work immediately subduing the chaos and
Subordinates while simultaneously sweeping the area. As I was
crouched down, undoing the leather straps that dug into the
doctor’s flesh around his ankles, the walls crashed down around
me.

The sound of the explosion was deafening, and
the force of it immediately knocked me on my stomach. Shrapnel from
the surrounding walls went flying and dug its way into my skin,
past the specialized lightweight Kevlar barrier of my fatigues.
There was no time to react or even shift. But at least by being
closer to the ground, I was able to avoid taking the full force of
the blast from all sides. Raad wasn’t so lucky.

I don’t know how long I was knocked out for.
But after opening my eyes, I lay still for several minutes, taking
stock of what had happened as well as my injuries. I was bleeding
profusely, but I would live. My communications equipment was
destroyed, and I had no way of connecting with the other Brothers.
We clearly walked into a trap crafted by the Dark Coven, who
willingly destroyed their own building and everything within.
Including their employees—Subordinates and humans alike. This lab
was state of the art, with millions of dollars worth of equipment.
The Dark Coven must not have had anything to lose.

Something heavy—either rock or metal—lay on
my back and pinned me to the ground. With all the strength I could
muster, I pushed myself off the floor and heaved the rubble from my
back. The pain was excruciating, as I could feel the muscles in my
back tear. I was losing blood quickly. I needed to drink.
Struggling to stand, I surveyed what was once a room. Now it was an
open array of rock, sparking electrical wires, and fire. Raad, who
had been strapped to a chair, was knocked to the ground in the
blast. A chunk of twisted metal covered almost his entire body. His
flesh was badly burned and oozing; he also had a massive head
wound.