Winter's Legacy: Future Days (Winter's Saga Book 6) (19 page)

38  Through the Looking Glass

Meg had been staring at her dusty footprint on the kitchen floor, holding herself as still as a stone.

The internal voice had been pouring poison into her mind for five minutes straight and it wasn’t letting up.  On the contrary, the voice became more condemning with every minute.

She forced herself to blink.

When she opened her eyes small embers of fight sparked in them.  She locked her jaw and narrowed her eyes angrily.

“That’s enough!” she hissed, cutting off the internal voice of defeat.

She uncurled her body from the fetal position it had held during the hateful self-condemnation.  Arms that had wrapped themselves around her folded legs unraveled.  Hands moved to the ground on either side of her hips. 

With every movement, her courage grew.

“Get up, Meg,” she ordered herself.  With white knuckles, she pushed off the ground until she stood shoulders back, chin held high in defiance. 

“You have a battle to prepare for.  Get your ass moving.”  She filled her lungs with air and pushed away from the wall. 

Go, just move,
she chanted to herself as she strode across the room to the back door that led to the attached garage.   The space was neatly organized thanks to Evan.  She knew exactly what she wanted; she grabbed the garden wagon and started loading it with supplies.  She moved with efficiency, gathering two and three things at once making plans as she went.

She looked around once more before grabbing a heavy hammer and tossing it onto the pile. 

Outside, the wind picked up.  An Arctic cold front was blowing in causing the temperature to drop dramatically, the way it could only do in Texas.  Meg was so focused on her work, she ignored the cold trying to creep into her fingertips.

She rolled the wagon back into the kitchen, yanked the wooden-handled hammer off the top of the heap and walked right up to the large, spying mirror.

In a loud voice, to be heard clearly into the hidden audio equipment, she spoke directly into her reflection.  “I know you’ve been watching me, and that you’re coming for me.  Well, keep your eyes open, you bastard.  I have something to show you!” Meg smiled, lifted the hammer over her shoulder like a baseball bat and swung.  The mirror and the camera behind it screamed as it shattered.  Meg saw the small green LED light on the camera flicker once before going black. 

Nodding with satisfaction, she scanned the room for any other reflective surfaces.  Not seeing any, she grabbed the broom and dustpan from the pantry and quickly swe
pt the shards of glass.  She didn’t bother finding the other cameras throughout the house. 
Move!
she yelled at herself.  She just needed one temperature-controlled room blacked-out to prepare for what she instinctively knew would be their final battle.

39  The Enemy of My Enemy

Senator Donovan Arkdone’s cell phone vibrated an alert.  A quick glance at the screen had his eyes bright with excitement.  Anxiously, he opened the attachment, enlarged the images and turned on the audio.  He had to control his urge to whoop at what he saw.

Instead, he pocketed his phone, amusement still evident in the handsome smile lines around his dark eyes, and moved to stretch his injured hand.  The throbbing had started to dissipate, though he only just now noticed.  Rapid healing was a part of the metahuman package he’d enjoyed over the years.

His smile continued as his thoughts shifted to that morning’s meeting with Presidential candidate Joe Hawthorne.  Joe had the nerve to start the conference with a superior attitude, but it didn’t take long to wipe the smugness off his pasty face once he heard the terms of Arkdone’s proposition.

“You’re bluffing.” Joe’s mouth hung agape.

“I have no reason to bluff, Joe.  I’m your Vice-Presidential Candidate or you lose.  Checkmate.”  He leaned back in the stiff leather chair opposite Joe who sat at his desk—an Oval Office replica—and draped his forearms on the captain’s armrests.  Joe’s eyes bored holes in Arkdone’s forehead as he searched for any way out of th
e trap. 

Absently Donovan crossed his legs and nodded expectantly.

“I’ll need my guys to crunch some numbers, of course,” he finally shrugged noncommittally—trying to save face.

“Do it now.  You have twenty minutes or my offer is revoked.” 
Arkdone savored his turn to smile smugly.

Joe reached into his breast pocket and retrieved his phone.  “Get me
Hockiday.”  There was a pause long enough for Joe to glance up at Donovan’s unreadable face.  “I don’t care where he is or what he’s doing.  Get him to my office immediately!” 

He disconnected the call with a tremor-filled finger.

Exactly nineteen minutes later, after campaign managers Hockiday and Roth had put their calculators side-by-side, Hawthorne conceded to Arkdone’s terms.  The announcement would be made to the press that very afternoon. 

For now, the Senator was resting in one of the guest suites at the priciest hotel in town.  Just as his mind wandered back to Meg, his cell phone chirped indicating an incoming call.

He checked the caller ID and raised a brow when a familiar area code flashed across the screen.

“Hello, Dr. Williams,” he grinned into the phone. 

“Senator,” Williams responded as neutrally as possible.

“It’s been ages.  How have you been?”

“Neither of us wants to exchange pleasantries,” Williams’ wet cough smacked in Arkdone’s ear.

“Fine.  What do you want?” 

“A truce.”

“Why?”

“The Winter Clan.”

“What about them?”

“They are reassembling.  I have a proposition for you.”

“I’m listening.”  Arkdone’s tone took on an angry edge at the mention of Meg—and all the power she possessed—escaping him the night before.

“We combine our forces and end them, once and for all.”

Arkdone smiled, but kept his voice nonchalant.   “Why do you need me?  You have your soldiers.  Just take care of them yourself.”

“We’ve both underestimated this family time and again.  I need your forces to join mine to not just tip the scales in our favor, but smash them into dust!” Williams’ breathing came in ragged, angry bursts. “I want the entire family slaughtered together,” he gritted his teeth.  “Their deaths are long overdue.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

“Exactly.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I understand you’re about to make an announcement to the world concerning your alignment with presidential candidate Joe Hawthorne.   Surely a man in your position wouldn’t want to risk nasty rumors of what really goes on in your asylum.”  Williams’ leathery lips cracked open and bled as he smiled into the silence on the other end of the line. “They know too much, Arkdone.” 

“Agreed.” Deep in thought, Arkdone leaned back in his chair.

“Have we a deal?  Your forces and mine working in accord, just this once, toward a mutually beneficial end?” Williams pressed.

Silence was the
first response he got.  “How do I know you don’t have a double-cross in mind?” Arkdone finally asked.

“You could just as easily plot something against me, Senator.”

“True.”

“So, let me be clear,” Williams’ icy calm was crisp in his voice.  “Neither of us trusts the other—that isn’t going to change.  What I propose is a temporary truce in this endeavor; a final collaboration toward a mutual goal.  Afterward we go our separate ways and our paths never need crossing again.”

“Obviously, I have other interests these days.  I suppose I could help you tie up this loose end.” He stood, absently wandered to the minibar and poured himself a drink.  The adrenaline rush at the prospect of acquiring revenge against the Winter Clan made his mind race. “I am already assembling my metamonarchs—thirty-five of them.”

“And my 17th Company is already en route, scheduled to arrive within the hour.”

“Good.  Ideally, we can get our teams there before the family arrives.”

“Ideally, yes.”

“Question.” Williams had been trying to figure out the best way to breech this topic, but decided in the end just to blurt it out and see what happened.  “Where exactly is my daughter?”

“Your daughter—yes, she is difficult, isn’t she?”

Williams’ shoulders stiffened.  “My gifts have made her extremely powerful.”

“In the interest of
our truce, I don’t suppose it matters if you know now—”

“Is she alive?” Williams interrupted.

“Oh yes, very much so.”

Williams held the phone away from his peeling face and exhaled relief. 

“But our task would be much easier if she weren’t,” the Senator pushed.

“Gideon Niche was your mole, correct?”  Williams’ fingers itched for his silver orbs, but he refused to give in to the urge—his unconscious act of punishment.

“Of course, he was.  He brought Meg to me weeks ago.  He died last night helping her escape my compound.  That daughter of yours is a powerful mind bender.  She even had me convinced for a while.”

Williams smiled
unapologetically at what he construed as compliments.

“Where is she now?” Williams asked.

“I know exactly where she is.  She’s already at the Winter ranch in Texas.”

“How do you know?”

“She sent me a message ten minutes ago; quite a temper, that one.”

“Why would she send you a message?”

“Oh, she didn’t mean to at first.  I had the place wired with surveillance after the incident in Flagstaff.  She inadvertently set off the motion activated cameras,” he laughed at the image of her smashing the hell out of the device, “She wasn’t very happy about being observed.”

“No, I imagine she wasn’t.”

“So if our people arrive before the family, they’ll only have to deal with Meg.  She’s formidable, but she’ll be alone.  We take her out and leave her body visible so the remaining members of the family fight demoralized.  In their anger and thirst for vengeance, they’ll be easy targets for us.  Meg is the linchpin.  Without her, without the
hope
of her, the family falls apart.”

“I was wanting to collect my daughter alive.  My plan
was to maintain her as I had been before Gideon stole her away.  If she is properly dosed with a sedative, she is harmless.”  Williams struggled to maintain a detached tone in his voice, but Arkdone saw easily through his front.

“Don’t tell me you’ve grown an authentic sense of attachment to her!” Arkdone shook his head in disbelief.

“She is my
daughter!
” Williams snapped.

“
She’s far too dangerous to be allowed to live, Williams, and you know it,” Arkdone growled.  “This is a deal-breaker, Kenneth.  Meg Winter
will
die.  She’s on top of the kill list, or I back out now.”

Williams responded with silence.
 

“What’ll it be Williams?”

“Fine,” he growled through a clenched jaw.

“So there’s no misunderstanding, I’ll need to see her body myself as proof
regardless of who got the final kill shot.”

Williams hissed, snake-like.  “Understood.”

“Good.  Let’s finish this.  I will have my metamonarch leader up to speed and mobilized immediately.”

“I’ll inform my company leader of our plan.  We should get our leaders in touch with one another so they can coordinate,”  Williams suggested, trying to get his mind off the topic of Meg’s imm
inent death.

“Better yet, we need to set everyone up to video conference.”  Arkdone set his drink down hard and lowered his voice conspiratorially.  “You’ve been studying these people for years, Kenneth.  You know their specific abilities and possible weaknesses.  We need to prepare the troops for what they’re going up against.  The video
conference will get all parties on the same page.”

“Yes, but do we trust this kind of information to be transmitted across the airwaves?”

Arkdone scoffed, “Leave the technical side of this to me.  My system has state-of-the-art encryption capabilities.  No one will see or hear anything said unless they were invited to join us.  Just be sure you have access to a laptop in exactly,” Arkdone checked his Rolex, “two hours.  I’ll send you an email with a link inviting you to the meeting well before it is to begin.”

“Fine.”

“I have that press conference in twenty-three minutes after which I’ll catch a plane to join you and our people in Texas.”

“I’m still about five hours from landing.  I have nearly three dozen soldiers with me to add to my 17th Company.”

“Brilliant.  I’ll be in touch,” Arkdone grabbed his drink off the table and took a deep swig.

“As will I.  Goodbye, Donovan.” 

Click

40
  It’s All in the Details

Arkdone refilled his drink and carried it into the next room where Adrian Roth had two laptops open as he screened multiple social networks.  He was monitoring reactions to the news he leaked to certain outlets concerning the imminent press conference.

“Senator,” he acknowledged respectfully, though his eyes never left the screens.

“How’s the world taking the news?” Arkdone tossed back his drink like it was water.

“No surprises.  The other camp is feeling pressure to make a similar announcement, but we’ve caught them with their pants down.  They aren’t ready to name anyone as running mate.  If we’re lucky, they’ll make a rash decision
trying to look as put-together as our camp.”

“Excellent.”

“Sir, we’re on in seventeen minutes.”

Arkdone’s phone vibrated an alert.  He glanced down at the device still in his hand.  “Get Michelle Andrews on the phone,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir.”  Roth scrolled expertly through his contacts and put the phone on speaker.  It only rang twice.

“This is Michelle.”

“Michelle, how many guests have arrived?”

“Sir, twenty-three guests are here presently.  The remaining dozen are scheduled to arrive in an hour.”

“Gather everyone and meet the last dozen at the airport.  I want everybody en route to Dallas immediately.  We’re going to the Winter’s ranch.”

“Yes, sir.” Michelle received the news with no show of emotion.  She would follow any order with absolute obedience.  He was, after all, her controller. 

“We’re aligning ourselves with Kenneth Williams and his soldiers this once in an all-guns-blazing final showdown with the Winter family.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Needless to say, I want every metamonarch suited up, armed and battle ready.  We’re going to be getting our hands very dirty in Texas.  Also, we’ll be video conferencing in exactly one hour, fifty minutes with all parties involved.  We’ll need to get the link set up for him, but then Williams will host—informing all fighters of what they’re up against.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll arrive in Texas in approximately three hours.  Stay in touch, Michelle.”

“Always, sir.”

Roth tapped the end-call button.

The conversation had garnered Roth’s full attention.  He watched warily as his boss approach
ed.  “Two things, Roth: First I need to be in Dallas in three hours.  Make it happen.”  He started walking back to the bedroom.  “Second, set up a secure video conference to take place midflight.  Standby for the participants’ contact info.”  He walked back into the room buttoning a fresh shirt, a new tie tossed casually over his shoulder.  “Have Ermos ready us for immediate departure.”

Roth’s brows furrowed, but he knew better than to question Arkdone.  All he said was, “Of course, sir.”