Winter's Wrath: Sacrifice (Winter's Saga #3) (8 page)

“I say we go try to wake her.  She probably needs to be part of this conversation,” Evan concluded.  “Don’t worry, Meg.  She’s unarmed, injured, stuck in a plane thirty-thousand feet in the air and we’ll be watching her every move.”

I guess I can’t argue with all that stupid logic
,
Meg scowled inwardly, following her brothers down the aisle toward the sleeping assassin.

Chapter 9  For War

“Farrow.  Farrow, wake up.”  Margo was gently shaking the girl’s shoulder
,
trying to coax her awake.

The metahuman grimaced, rolled her head and curled into a ball on her side.  Even Meg had to admit, she looked very small and vulnerable.

“Meg, can you reach in and take away some of her sadness?  It may help her ease into consciousness,” Evan suggested.

Meg
sighed.  “Right.”  This time she kept her hands to herself. 
Meg
reached out with her warm white blanket and draped it over
the girl’s
sadness, reminding her
s
elf
that
Farrow
was just a
n innocent
who had been caught up in Williams’ evil.  Like Creed, no one came to rescue her either. 

Those thoughts gave
Meg
renewed determination to help. 
She
stretched
her
emotional blanket around
the girl’s
darkness, bundled it up and pulled it away from her.  With a prayer, Meg tossed it up into the sky. 
She
sensed Farrow’s body shudder, muscles contract, then relax. 

Meg
opened her eyes and sighed deeply.
She
had to sit down, m
omentarily spent from her work. 

She
noticed something about this evolved gift that she didn’t like at all.
 
Not only was it disorienting and exhausting to slip into someone else’s mind,
she was also starting to get some intense headaches afterward.  Stabbing, vice crushing, headaches came on quickly and seemed in direct correlation with how much effort she expended into the empath reading. 

Meg rubbed her temples and watched as Farrow’s eyelids fluttered.

“Farrow? 
I
’m Meg, and you’re here with my family.  You’re safe now.  No one’s going to hurt you.  My brother treated your wound, and you’re healing just fine.  It’s okay to open your eyes
.
”
Meg sent gentle waves of calm across the emotional connection still tangible to
her
, and felt the pain in
her own
headache
surge
.

Farrow’s
large doe eyes opened slowly, as though she didn’t completely trust what she would see.

“Am
I
dreaming?”
The girl’s
voice was scratchy around the question.

“No, dear.  You’re finally awake.  Though you’ve been out of it for a couple of days,” Margo said gently and offered her a reassuring smile.

M
argo
reached out to accept
bottled
water from Alik’s h
and and
tipp
ed
the bendable straw so she could hold it
still
for Farrow to take a sip. 

“Take a couple sips.  Slowly,”
Margo
warned holding the straw still for her.  She obeyed, taking two small sips, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

“How are you feeling?” Evan asked.

“Different,” she responded without hesitation.

“Different in what way?” Evan pressed.

“
I
was so angry—furious,” she started and wrinkled her brow remembering more of her dreams of abandonment, “but now—” her voice trailed to a stop.  “You’re the metas the director wants so badly.  And you,” Farrow locked eyes with
Margo.
“
Y
ou were my target.”

“We are the Winter family.  I’m Margo, and you’ve just met my daughter, Meg.  This is my youngest, Evan. He was your doctor, by the way.  And this is my older son, Alik.” Mom looked at the drawn face of Dr. Andrews.  “That’s my dear friend, Dr. Theo Andrews and the young man on the stretcher across the aisle is his son, Cole.”

Everyone murmured “hellos” to the dark-eyed beauty who had been their assigned assassin.

“
I
know this seems surreal,” Meg said to the only other female meta she’d ever met, “but we really do only want you to get better and ask you to join us, if you’re willing.”

“You did it, didn’t you?”  Farrow asked Meg pointedly, skipping the implied question.  No one in the room knew what she was talking about, except the empath.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I used my gift to help ease your sadness.”

“
That
is your gift?”

“It is part of it now,” Meg offered a tired smile through the pounding in her head.

“I was told your gift was to read emotions.” Farrow slowly sat up as they talked.

“It is, but I’ve evolved.”

“Evolved?”

“It’s kind of a long story, and I don’t mind sharing it with you, when you’re feeling more up to it.”  Meg adjusted the gurney’s sheet around the girl’s legs to help her
feel more comfortable. 
Meg sensed she was feeling very vulnerable.

“Are we on a plane? Where are we going?” 

“Yes, we’re over the Pacific Ocean.  We’ll be landing in LAX in a few hours to refuel.”  Meg didn’t offer any more information about their final destination intentionally.

“You have to understand our concern, Farrow,” Alik began.  “We need to know we can trust you not to hurt us.  Williams came to hunt us back on the
Big
Island
.  He brought fourteen mutated metasoldiers with him.  We escaped, but not before we lost two of our own.”  Inwardly, Meg nodded approval of
her brother
not identifying the names of their dead.

Farrow looked around the room at her former targets.

“Why did you rescue me?”  Her voice was small.

“Because it was the right thing to do,” Margo answered simply.

“But, I hurt your family,” Farrow grimaced thinking about how many of them she had personally harmed.

“Yes, you did,” Meg locked eyes with the former assassin.  “We are willing to forgive you, if you’re willing to help us fight against Williams.”

The two watched each other carefully for a full fifteen seconds before Farrow broke the silence.  “What happens if
I
refuse your offer?” She narrowed her eyes, testing them.

“We’ll get you safely stateside, then leave you tied up in a motel room, just to give us a head start,” Alik smirked.

“Alik Winter!” Margo swatted him.  “This poor girl does not know you’re kidding.”

“Who’s kidding?” Evan grinned. “I say forget the comfy motel.  Surely there’s a janitor’s closet at the airport—one with big spiders and hairy rats.  That’ll do nicely.”

“That’s enough out of you two,” Margo scolded her sons.  The boys kept elbowing each other and exchanging chuckles.

“Sorry about them.  The boys can be so obnoxious sometimes.” Meg glared at her brothers.

“You have to appreciate our predicament.  We would like to take a leap of faith and trust you to help us.  If you choose not to, well, that’s your choice.  We would have to think of a reasonable way to let you leave us unarmed and unable to harm us.”  Dr. Winter patted Farrow’s hand.  “Think about it, dear.”

Farrow stared down at her target’s hand, warm and reassuring and whispered what Meg sensed she had been thinking.  

“I
was made for war.” Farrow’s voice was barely above a whisper, “He even named me ‘Farrow’ because of the anagram ‘for war’ hidden inside.  I would be worthless to peaceful people like you.”  She never looked up.  She felt so much self-loathing and shame for everything she was, especially now that she compared herself to the Winter family.   Farrow saw them as good people and herself as ugly and flawed in contrast.  She realized good people healed their enemy and offered friendship. 

She couldn’t stand it anymore. 

Farrow lay back down on the bed, and rolled over to face away from the kindness surrounding her.  “I’m very tired,” she said in a muffled voice.

Margo and Meg exchanged looks.

“Rest, Farrow.  When you’re ready to talk, we’ll be here.” Meg said, trying to offer soothing waves.

Watching the Winters drive away from him was the most poignant, gut-wrenching thing Creed could remember living through, and that was saying a lot.

Just when he found them, he had to let them go.  He needed to make things right.  All he ever wanted was a family and though it was by his own choice that he stood alone to face Williams and the evil he created, it still broke his heart to know he found and lost the most precious people he would ever have the honor of knowing. 

Without realizing he was doing it, Creed began rubbing his chest where the pain of heartache was the most piercing.  The irony hadn’t been lost on him to know he had the “gift” to turn off his pain—but it only worked on physical pain.  Nothing could ease his breaking heart.

Nothing except, Meg,
he whispered to himself, even as he ducked out of sight. 

“Hello,
little b
rother
,” a voice hissed from behind him.

Creed spun mid
-
step to see Gavil standing, arms folded, lips sneering.  Flanking him twitched six hulking metasoldiers who gave off seriously unhinged vibes.  Creed realized his moments of nostalgia staring at the taillights of the people he considered his family had cost him dearly.  He was outnumbered and caught completely off guard.  And besides that, it looked to him as though he was the only sane person around. 

Crap.

“Poor little Creedy,” Gavil cooed, “Did they leave you all alone to die?”  He shook his head in feigned pity. 

“Leave them out of this, Gavil.  I have what Williams
wants,” Creed blurted, his mind working to formulate a plan even as he spoke.

“He wants them,” Gavil nodded toward the road.

“He wants the serum, and I have it.”  Creed pulled his shoulders back and stepped closer to the seven soldiers.

“You expect me to believe they gave it to
you
?” he spat, pouncing forward to grab Creed by the shirt, yanking him to stand nose to nose. 

“They trusted me to destroy it.   Right leg pocket.  See for yourself.  They left me with the remote detonator.” Creed forced himself to hold still under his brother’s hatful glare.

“Oscar,” Gavil barked right into Creed’s face, spewing foul breath, “check his pocket.”  Gavil’s order was obeyed immediately when a hulking soldier stepped forward and ripped the Velcro closure on Creed’s camo fatigues with his meaty hands.  He yanked out a small black box with a simple key pad and metal antenna. 

“Looks like a remote, sir,” the mutant metasoldier growled.

Without releasing Creed from his face-to-face venomous stare, Gavil yelled to another, “Gideon, check him for weapons.”

Out of the corner of Creed’s eye, he saw another muscle-headed soldier walk toward him.  Creed was slapped and shoved as the guy disarmed him. 

“Well, well.  The director is going to love seeing you again, but I figure he can wait a few extra minutes,” Gavil nearly glowed with sick excitement.  “Hold him!” he ordered.

Two of his minions hurried to take Creeds arms.

“You have to know you’re going to die today, Bleedy Creedy.  I have my orders.” Gavil rolled his neck, causing cracking sounds that echoed through the stillness of the tropical surroundings.  The little brother watched with weary eyes that had seen hundreds of beatings, but this time his abuser hesitated.  A darkness shadowed Gavil’s face for a moment and he held perfectly still as if listening to something whispered across the room.

Oscar and Gideon exchanged itchy looks over Creed’s head, but they’d seen how unpredictable Gavil had been and didn’t want to speak up to question his hesitation.  Instead, they shifted their weight nervously, readjusting their grips on the younger brother’s biceps positioning him for the beating Gavil had planned, and waited.

“Canon!” Gavil barked at a metasoldier behind him. 

“Sir!” The huge soldier stepped forward awaiting orders obediently.

“I’ve kicked his ass more times than I care to count.  Maybe he needs to hear it from someone else.  He’s all yours.  Just don’t kill him—Williams wants him alive
—for now
.” Gavil narrowed his eyes at his little brother.  If Creed weren’t so concerned about the hulking rabid dog sneering his joy at being chosen to proceed with the pounding, he may have noticed the torn expression on his older brother’s face before he turned away.