The Lost Prince (15 page)

2

The search had taken Allyn and Theo into a densely overgrown section of the woods, far from any established trails. They would never have gotten the SUV through here. They’d been walking uphill, away from the other search parties, with Allyn checking their surroundings every few thousand yards. About an hour into the search, he picked up two small warm-blooded creatures—about the size of a six-year-old and a four-year-old.

“Got you,” Allyn said. His heart thumped triumphantly. “This way.”

They found the children huddled together for warmth in a dry brook beneath a tangle of thick roots belonging to a very old tree. Allyn praised God that it did not rain last night; the children may have been swept away. Zach mostly covered his sister, Ruth, beneath him, with his Sunday jacket over them like a blanket. Wind-blown autumn leaves covered the children, blending them into the forest.

“Zachary?” the reverend said. The boy was asleep and cold to the touch. His lips were cracked and colored an unhealthy shade of deep purple. “Zach, wake up.”

Ruth woke up first. She let out a high-pitched scream and began crying.

“Ruth, hush. It’s Reverend Grey from Church. Your daddy is my friend, remember?”

Whether she remembered the reverend, or just realized he was not the bad man who kidnapped them, Ruth settled down. He handed her an open bottle of water and watched her drink. Zach, however, would not wake up. His hands were cold, his pulse weak.

“Theo, grab the boy’s other hand and rub them quickly,” Allyn said. They worked the boy’s hands as though trying to start a fire.

Allyn opened Zach’s shirt and pressed his hands to the boy’s chest.

“You going to shout ‘clear’ or something?” Theo asked.

Allyn closed his eyes and sought out the life energy coursing through the forest. He had trouble pulling it toward him; like taffy that had been sitting out too long. He placed one hand on a thick tree root beside him, and a spigot creeped open, letting the energy trickle into him. He pumped life into the boy’s chest, and felt it spread throughout the lad, warming his extremities.

“Dang,” Theo said as the energy reached the boy’s hands and coursed into his brother-in-law. Zach’s eyes opened. Allyn put a bottle of water to his lips and Zach drank greedily without prompting. They were too distracted with joy to hear the rustle behind them.

“Y’all just stand up slow,” a voice behind them said.

A gaunt young man with long, greasy blond hair in blue jeans and a ratty oversized Panthers jersey pointed a shaky .32 caliber snub-nosed pistol at them. His face had fresh scratches. There was a tattoo of a flaming cross in blue ink running up his forearm from the wrist.

“Son, put the gun down,” Allyn said, positioning himself between the weapon and the children. Theo closed ranks, too, blocking the robber’s view of the kids.

“Shut up! I give the orders here. Throw me them bottles of water,” he said. “And, whatever food you got.”

Allyn threw the robber his backpack. The man was strung out. He had not had a fun time in the forest.

“There’s water and protein bars in the pack,” Allyn said. “Leave us be. We have no quarrel with you.”

“Fuck that! And fuck you! Them stupid kids had to run into the forest. I been cut and banged up, almost sprained my ankle all thanks to them.”

“They ain’t kidnapped
you,
” Theo said.

The robber pointed the gun at Theo—then back to Allyn, then Theo again. “Shut up. You wanna get shot?”

“No one needs to get shot,” Allyn said, calmly. “We’re sorry for your—inconvenience.”

“Gimme the girl!”

“The girl?” Allyn said. “Son, these children have to go to a hospital. If the child dies in your custody, it will go bad for you at trial.” Allyn spoke as though the thief’s capture was inevitable, trying to get him to do the right thing and leave. “They’ll put you away for life.”

“There ain’t gonna be no trial! I ain’t going to jail. They lay off me, I’ll leave the girl at the border.”

“The border?” asked Theo. “What border? Tennessee?”

“Mexico, you dumb coon.”

“You ain’t gonna get to Mexico, you stupid…!” Theo snarled. “The whole state’s looking for you.”

Allyn grasped Theo’s shoulder to calm him down. Flared tempers would not get them out of this. “Let’s all calm down,” he said.

“Can’t you blast him or something?” Theo whispered through clenched teeth.

“Priests don’t
blast,
” Allyn whispered back.

“Stop talkin’! Give me that little bitch,” the robber said, agitated.

“Look, son—”

“Do I look like a coon?” the thief said, waving the gun at Allyn.

“You’ll travel much farther without the girl. I’m a preacher. I’ll be your hostage.”

“Uh-uh. No. I can’t be watchin’ out for you tryin’ something the first chance you get.”

“My word to god,” Allyn said. “I will not try anything. Theo will tell the cops that I am with you to keep them from charging in. Let the children go with Theo and I will be your shield.”

The man considered Allyn’s offer, stupidly scratching his chin with the tip of his gun for an unreasonably long time.

“Okay,” he finally said.

Theo resisted at first, but Allyn convinced him to go. Theo handed Allyn his backpack and put a child on each shoulder. Allyn steered him toward a party of searchers about two thousand yards to the south. Once Theo cleared the trees and was out of sight, Allyn turned his attention on the robber.

“What now?” he asked his captor. The two of them faced each other in the empty forest. Even the animals seemed to have cleared out.

The thief lacked a coherent plan. He had been turned around and didn’t know where he was anymore, or how to get out of the forest.

“May I sit, while you contemplate our next move?” Allyn asked as he took a seat on a massive root. “I’m Reverend Allyn Grey.”

“Friends call me Skieve,” the robber said.

If that was what friends called him, what did his enemies…? “Well, Skieve, do you know how to handle that weapon? I don’t want it going off by accident.”

“I was in the army. Ain’t going off ’les I want to put a round in your black ass.” Skieve put down his arm, pistol toward the ground. Allyn felt a little better. “You gonna preach to me now, Rev? Tell me what a sinner I am, how my life would be better with Jesus?” He pronounced it
Jay-zus
.

“I’ll start with Jesus—but if that doesn’t work for you, maybe Buddha or Allah will … there are many paths to improvement from where you stand now … lots of upward potential.”

“What the hell kinda preachin’ is that?” Skieve looked incredulous. “You want me to pray like them filthy rag heads that done took out the towers?”

“You’re a proud American?”

“Damn straight!”

“But you perpetrated violence against your fellow countrymen.”

Skieve scratched the side of his head with the tip of the gun barrel. “Times are tough.”

“There are programs for veterans—college aid or skills training.”

“That might be a problem seeing as how I’m AWOL. Thing is, I’d go back if they didn’t put me in the clink. Took me a wrong turn or two gettin’ from there to here. Now I’m stuck. Gonna do time for being absent without leave, and then gonna do time for the robbery and kidnapping. Looking at the next twenty years in the jug if I get caught.”

“Skieve, you took an oath. Going AWOL can’t sit well with you.”

“You don’t know how I’m feelin’. You a preacher—you don’t break promises.”

Allyn thought about his own oath to Aandor, to protect the prince, and how he’d already broken it unwillingly and was about to break it again consciously. His shame hit him like an angry bull.
Who am I to pass judgment on this man?
he thought.

“You quiet all a sudden, preacher.”

“I did break a covenant … made long ago. What right have I to counsel you when I’m avoiding my own commitments? I came looking for the Taylor children as much as a distraction as to help that family. But I’m lying … delaying a decision that is wrong either way I turn.”

“Sounds like you got yourself a whole world o’ trouble worse than being stuck in the woods with me. Don’t go gettin’ no ideas, though. You made a promise. Swore to God.”

“Actually I swore to
god
. But, I won’t do a thing. It’s the forest you have to worry about.”

“Huh? You ain’t makin’ any sense.”

“The forest is angry at you.”

“What kinda crazy talk is that?”

“You brought a lot of negative energy into these woods. The trees can feel it. So can the animals.”

Skieve laughed, his voice echoing through the trees. “You tellin’ me the critters got it out for me ’cause I went and robbed the Pig?” Skieve doubled over laughing and had to rest his hands, and gun, on his knees. “I ain’t never heard such bullshit in all the sermons I been to. What the hell kinda preacher are you?”

A loud crack boomed above them. A thick branch that had seen too many storms clipped Skieve on the head on its way down. The robber fell over, dropping his gun. Reverend Grey kicked the pistol down a ravine. Skieve was struggling to stay conscious, no doubt experiencing bright spots of light at the moment. Allyn took the man’s face in his both hands. “Hold still for a moment. This won’t hurt.”

“You promised,” Skieve complained groggily through puckered lips, as Allyn put pressure on his face.

Allyn could feel the anger in the boy’s heart—the result of many experiences that shaped his pitiful life, fed his fears, and birthed the turmoil in his soul. Drawing on the forest, praying, Allyn administered a soothe. He felt the magic chip away at the anger and replace it with peace. As the blessing calmed the robber, his protestations lost their intensity. A calm that Skieve had never known in his life filtered through him.

“Wha’ kinda preach, are you?” he said, as he slowly slipped into a peaceful unconscious state. “You swore ta Gah…”

“Yes,” Allyn answered. “But in Aandor, liars have their own god, too.”

CHAPTER 11

LIFE INTERRUPTED

1

Brianna MacDonnell jumped into her father’s powerful arms the minute her parents walked through the door. Cal’s guilt at having left Bree with her grandmother nipped at his joy even as she pressed into him. He had suggested they skip Vivian’s place altogether and head directly to their own home. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Bree; he simply had an unfathomable number of tasks to perform, especially with the pending roadtrip to find the prince. There were other guardians to locate, a safe house to set up, assassins to track down … the list was endless. Cal didn’t think it was the right environment for Bree to be around—too early to bring his daughter back into the mix. Cat insisted they retrieve her; as usual, she won the argument.

Cal relished her nearly weightless body in his arms—her tiny arms wrapped around his neck and the smell of Johnson’s baby shampoo. Forty pounds of innocence, she hit his heart with the force of a rhino. The moment saddened him; his own parents never got to know the pure joy that was Bree. It also brought to bear the injustice of his archduke and duchess never having had this simple pleasure with their son. By the time they saw the prince again, if ever, he would be well on his way to becoming a man … but what kind of man?

It was Callum’s duty to raise the boy with knowledge of his heritage. To raise him straight and proper, teach him right from wrong, and ensure that he was the kind of person that could rule an empire justly.

“We’re going to the museum,” Bree said.

“We are?” asked Cal.

“No, not
we, Daddy
. My class.”

Cat’s mother, Vivian Hill, waved a school permission slip. Bree’s school trip was the last thing on Vivian’s mind if Cal knew the old woman, and he did. She had a plethora of questions for them, each one a brick in the wall of worry she’d erected since they had mysteriously dropped off Bree and headed north to find the wizard Rosencrantz and disappeared for two days. Now was no time for school trips, though. Cal didn’t want Bree out of sight or away from family. Heck, he didn’t want her more than a foot away from Lelani. Hostages were par for the course in war, especially in Aandor.

“We’ll talk about it, sweetie,” he said, and put her down.

Vivian came over, the look on her face expressing what she did not convey in words:
Why is someone trying to kill you? Are you safe? Will you go into witness protection? Is Cal still employed?

Vivian actually asked, “Who are these people?” For simplicity’s sake, Cal introduced Seth and Lelani as his protection detail, assigned to him and Catherine since the attack on him in the Bronx.

“Why do you need protection?” Vivian said, her brows knitted with worry. “Is the mafia trying to kill you? Is it that don who got indicted a few days ago—the one that dresses like pimp?”

“Mom, why would Dominic Tagliatore want to kill Cal?” Catherine asked.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Vivian said. “I told you to marry a lawyer or doctor, but you had to find a policeman who works in the South Bronx…”

Cal wasn’t a drinker, but after Cat decided they would spend the night at Vivian’s, he wished for two fingers of Jameson’s whiskey to get through the evening.

The two-bedroom apartment was in a building on the edge of Spuyten Duyvil Creek, just overlooking the northernmost tip of Manhattan. It was tastefully decorated with cherrywood furniture, antiques, lace doilies, and smelled of lavender.

Seth made himself comfortable on the couch he would most likely be sleeping on tonight. Lelani staked a corner in the dining room for her needs, but had to push the table out a bit to accommodate her hidden mass. Lelani would still be cramped back there … this world was not made for centaurs. Vivian inquired why she was moving her furniture and Cal chalked it up to stakeout tactics.

Viv launched into hostess mode with drinks and snacks and entertained her new guests with stories about how she moved to Riverdale from Rahway after Cat’s father passed away so that she could be equally distant between her two daughters and her grandchildren. Cal wondered where “equally distant” would be if Cat returned to Aandor with him—a universe between this one and Aandor perhaps? Would his wife really leave her family forever?