Winter's Legacy: Future Days (Winter's Saga Book 6) (4 page)

When no one was looking, she made her way to the door leading to the temperature controlled room where medicines were stored.  She knew exactly what she was looking for and
with skilled hands, she secured a syringe, palmed the steroid and muttered to herself as she calculated the dose.  She had to estimate the subject’s weight, but within forty-five seconds of entering the room, Kylie had what she needed and was hurrying back to the dying patient. 

She remembered scanning the room as she moved with purpose, stifling a sigh of relief that no one seemed to have noticed her absence. 

When she arrived back at the subject’s side, the Infinite mask of death was clearly hovering in the boy’s gaunt cheeks and dark circles around his closed eyes.  Without a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed the connecting hub of his IV and deftly inserted the needle, pressing the plunger to the hilt.  She discreetly removed the syringe and disposed of it in a hazardous materials container on the counter behind her. 

It was her first act of treason
.

Until tonight,
she thought as she sped down a residential roadway in Cairo, Egypt. 

Before that moment, Kylie had only defied orders in her mind—questioning them and planning around them.  But that day, she turned a corner. 

When her shift was up, she spent a few extra minutes studying the little boy with blond curls.  She gently lifted his lids so she could check his pupils for a response and remembered the child’s strikingly beautiful blue eyes. He still looked very ill, but at least he hadn’t died.  Kylie left his side silently hoping he would be alive the next morning when she returned to work.

That night, the Original Three invaded the compound.  The attack culminated in the annihilation of the Facility’s Research Hospital.

She later heard the surviving new recruits had been safely transported off base before all hell broke loose. 

Ripping herself from her reverie,
Kylie turned the steering wheel and aimed the car up a hill toward the ripped up house at the top.  The explosion had startled the neighborhood into a panic.  People were streaming from their homes and running away from the carnage any way they could.  Kylie had to slow to dodge people pouring down the residential street on cars, motorcycles, bikes and simply on foot.  She didn’t have time to worry for the elderly with their silver hair glistening in the moonlight nor the children being jostled in their parents’ arms—each wearing the same look of terror and confusion.   The
ratta-tat-tat
of gunfire had people ducking as they ran.

Kylie wasn’t terrified anymore, and she wasn’t confused.  She felt a sense of absolute clarity even through the burning pain in her chest as she gasped for air.  Her one hand gripping the steering wheel tightened as she felt warm blood seep between the fingers of the other hand.  The same hand that had killed so many innocent children in the name of
Metahumanology was now stained with her own blood as she fought to stay conscious. 

She had one last act to perform.  It wasn’t much, but as her life’s blood pumped freely through the bullet wound in her chest, she knew it was to be her last act on this earth.  She knew now she had been on the wrong side of the fight
, tricked, lied to and used all her life by Kenneth Williams.  She hoped with her last act, she could find some redemption for all the wrongs she blindly committed.  She was ready to die fighting beside the Original Three.

5  The Empath’s Eclipse

Meg stepped confidently toward the rail, grasped the ornate wrought iron and searched the crowd for Arkdone.  She had to avoid him entirely or risk being found out by him sensing her psychic push before she had completed her task.  He was surrounded by people, but Meg knew they had to be expendable votes.  She focused on everyone except the black hole that was Arkdone’s signature and a ten-foot radius from him.  Then she bowed her head, readying herself for her task. 

Time was a steamroller squeezing the breath from her.  She only had a matter of minutes to do what she’d never done before.

She focused on the signatures around her. 

In her mind, she visualized all the delegates holding their ballots in one hand and pens in the other.  She focused on them and muttered the thoughts she needed to plant in their minds:

“Not Arkdone.  He’s not worthy of my vote.  He’s not the best choice for our party, for our country.  Not Arkdone.” 

She watched the delegates in her mind hesitate; their pens poised over their ballots and watched them check the box beside names other than Donovan Arkdone’s. 

“Do not vote for Senator Arkdone.”  She pushed her will wider, imagining herself a fog rolling delicately over the room, blanketing the vast majority of the hundreds of people there.  She kept repeating her will, “Not Arkdone.  Do not vote for Arkdone,” as she pushed herself even harder desperately trying to impart her will on as many people as possible.

Gideon watched Meg as she began her work.  He saw her breathing slow, deep breaths at first then watched her lips move as she muttered words.  Two minutes into her efforts, her whole body began shaking.  Blood began to drip from her nose soaking into the dress of the same color.

He resisted gathering her up right then and rushing her out of that place.  He knew she had work to do and she would tell him to respect her wishes, no matter what. 

A minute later, when her knees began to buckle, Gideon caught her easily before she collapsed completely.  He held her reverently, watching her face as he carried her back to an unoccupied leather sofa against the far wall.  

Thinking quickly, he grabbed an abandoned glass of wine left on the sofa’s side table.  Knowing he needed to hide her condition from the Senator, he discreetly spilled the wine all down her neck and chest, watching the aromatic liquid wet her red gown.  Trying not to panic at the sight of her bloody face, he just curled her into his arms and held her. 

“Please wake up, Meg,” he whispered to her ear.  “What did you do to yourself?” he groaned softly, and he carefully buried her face against himself, hiding her condition from the few people who walk
ed past their relatively private little corner.

He didn’t care that her blood was staining his white tuxedo shirt.  He didn’t notice the wine soaking into his jacket.  He simply marveled at the beauty that looked as delicate as a flower but fought like a beast.  Into her unconscious ear, he leaned down and whispered three words he’d never spoken to anyone, ever.

“I can’t help myself, Meg.  I love you.” He sat up searching her face for some hint that she may have heard his confession.  Her long, dark lashes lay in beautiful arches against her smooth, pale skin.  She was as still as a painting; a timeless beauty.  Gideon couldn’t stop staring at the piece of living art in his arms.

He didn’t bother to listen to the voice that came from the musician’s microphone announcing Joe Hawthorne as the candidate chosen as the party’s presidential nominee.  Nothing but the girl mattered to him.

It took Ermos fifteen minutes before his frantic face came searching for them, taking in the sight of the girl who looked and smelled drunk.

“What an embarrassment,” the usually mild-tempered manservant scolded.  “You should have taken better care of Miss Meg.”  Gideon wasn’t listening to the words, but he did carefully gather Meg in his arms and followed Ermos down the back stairwell so as not to cause a scene.

Within minutes, Gideon was seated in the back of Arkdone’s limousine with the unconscious girl still curled in his arms. 

Arkdone was on the phone with Adrian Roth, his campaign manager, barking angry orders and demanding explanations from him.  He didn’t even seem to notice Gideon and Meg at first.

By the time they’d arrived at the small, private airport, Arkdone’s face was beet red with fury.  His tirade at losing the presidential nomination had lasted the entire forty-minute drive, and it sounded as though he was just getting started when he slammed the phone down, surely jarring Roth’s ear.

“What the hell happened to her?” he screamed at Gideon, his sweaty handprint still clear on the glossy black surface of his discarded cell phone.

Gideon dragged his eyes away from the phone and forced himself to respond to his controller.  “I didn’t realize she had too much to drink until it was too late.  She collapsed, hitting her nose and spilling her wine,” he lied.

Arkdone narrowed his already beady eyes. 
“Her wine?”
Arkdone fumed.  “Did it occur to you that she’s only sixteen?” he seethed.

“Sir, no sir.  I did not know her age.”  Gideon
looked down at her in disbelief.  Now that he was focusing on her slim frame and flawless skin, he felt even more reverence toward such an old soul in the young body.

“I expected more from you, Gideon. 
Now you get to anticipate the consequences for your carelessness.”

“Sir, yes sir.” Gideon felt himself bow his head submissively to his controller, but for the first time in his life, he felt resentment for his body’s automatic reaction to Arkdone’s reprimand. 

Ermos stopped the car beside the private jet and Arkdone angrily opened his door to exit the vehicle as he growled, “She reeks of alcohol.” 

He then ducked his head back into the limo to add, “Have her cleaned up and ready to discuss matters one hour after we arrive back at the hospital.  She has work she’d better be willing to start immediately.”

“Sir, yes sir.”  Gideon nodded respectfully and watched the Senator take the steps up to the jet two and three at a time.  He frowned to himself wondering why he’d never noticed his controller’s agility. 

How many other things are going on that I’ve been oblivious
to all this time? Have I been such a mindless monarch to have missed the bizarre behavior of my controller?

He looked back at the girl in
his arms and wondered if it were because of her that his eyes were finally starting to open to the life he’d been forced to live.  She moaned softly in her sleep.  The sound of her voice was a soothing tonic to his soul.

Ermos was standing at the door.  He coughed discr
eetly to get Gideon’s attention. 

Never letting his eyes leave her beautiful face, the
metamonarch carefully held the girl to his wide chest and crouched to step out of the luxury car.  He walked up the steps into the plane slowly, enjoying the simple pleasure he felt at watching her spiral curls dance in the breeze around her face.

You’re just a child, Meg.
  He thought with amazement.
You’re a strong, beautiful girl with your life ahead of you.
He pushed his thoughts toward her—willing her to hear
.

He sat with her still in his arms in one of the front seats of the jet.  One hand reached to carefully pull a lock of hair away from the sticky blood under her nose. 

If I had one wish, it would be to be near you the rest of my life, even if only as a servant.  Just to hear your voice and watch the fire dance in your eyes when you’re excited.  Just to breathe the same air.  I would do anything to stay right here beside you, little angel.

Meg only stirred twice during the thirty
-minute flight, but they arrived back at the hospital without her having regained consciousness.  The Senator looked on her with anger when he realized how unlikely it was that he would be able to have a discussion with her in an hour’s time. 

“Do your best to rouse her, Gideon.”  The Senator waved his hand dismissively as they walked into the grand foyer of the asylum.  Arkdone made a beeline to the bar in his study where he poured himself a
tumbler of Scotch.

“Yes, sir,” Gideon responded, worry pressed into his brow at how exactly he was going to accomplish his task.  He turned and carried the girl down the corridor toward her chambers. 

With reverence, he laid her on her crimson comforter.  Not sure what to try first, he opted for a cold washcloth and hurried to her bathroom to retrieve one.  As he squeezed out the water with his massive hands, he heard a moan from the other room. 

He ran back only to find the girl in nearly the same position he’d left her, except her left arm was now tossed up and over her head.  He noticed she tucked her thumb inside her nearly closed fist
, a position that seemed so familiar to her muscles, they moved that way even in her sleep. 

Sleeping, she looked every inch the sixteen-year-old girl lying alone in the massive bed.  Gideon shrugged out of his jacket and yanked his bowtie undone, unbuttoning the top two pearl buttons so he could finally breathe. 

This girl just takes my breath away.
He inhaled deeply, trying to clear his mind.

Gently, he used the washcloth to wipe away the blood from her face first, then the top of her chest.  He could see the blood had trickled down between her two, perfectly
shaped breasts, but refused to touch her there.

Not without her permission,
he ordered himself.  Gideon felt a wave of protectiveness strong enough to make his senses heighten as his heart pounded with adrenaline in his chest. 

Using a clean edge of the washcloth, Gideon carefully stroked her forehead and temples.  “Meg, wake up.  You’re safe.  Come on.  It’s time to wake up,” he coaxed in a soothing tone.

His eyes fixated on the Cupid’s bow shape of her full lips and found himself biting his own at the temptation to kiss her.  That’s what he was thinking when he noticed her eyelids flutter.

Slowly she blinked them open and squinted against the dim light of her bedside lamp.  Gideon was sitting beside her at the edge of her bed.  He was watching her lips
.  She blinked away the temptation to reach out and touch his face in response to his intimate gaze.

“Gideon?”

“I’m here.”

“What happened?”

“You happened.  How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a train—repeatedly.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry to lay this on you, but the Senator said he wants to see you in his study in,” he stopped to check his watch, “thirty-five minutes to discuss matters.”

“Sirus?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

Meg searched the eyes of the man leaning over her.  “Which of you is in front?”

He shrugged, “I think we both are.”

“That’s amazing!” Meg raised her voice with excitement loud enough to jar herself.  Her hands immediately went to her head and held her temples tightly.

“Ow.”

“How about some
aspirin?”

“And a shower,” she added.

“That too.”

Meg gingerly moved to a sitting position then stopped and whispered.  “Did it work?”

“Arkdone is furious that he didn’t win the nomination, if that’s what you mean,” Gideon/Sirus whispered back. 

“Oh, poor guy,” she shook her head stiffly before bursting into a quiet smile.  She moved to stand, but wobbled precariously on her feet.  Gideon/Sirus caught her elbow smoothly and walked with her toward the bathroom. 

“What am I supposed to call you when you’re both here?” Meg cocked her head as she looked up into his warm, milk-chocolate eyes, a pleased smirk pressing her lips.

“How about you just call me Niche,” he smiled back.

“Not Girus?  Or Sideon?” 

“No, 'Niche' rhym
ing with 'peachy' is bad enough.” He chuckled at her playfulness and wondered for the umpteenth time that night what he would have to do to get to stay in her life.  Niche was completely in love with Meg.