by Lola Gabriel
At first, the previous day’s meeting had not triggered any cause for alarm. Wilder had been his usual overcautious self, proclaiming that three of his businesses had been targeted in a string of random robberies.
“If they’re random, why are you freaking out?” Lennox sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. Few people had less patience for Wilder’s dramatics than Lennox.
“Because I don’t think they’re random!” Wilder decried. “I think someone has it out for me!”
“Oh, here we go,” Owen snorted. “Wilder, you own half of the damned Hollows! You’re bound to get robbed now and again. That’s why you have insurance.” His smile widened as he said it, as if he was thinking about how much he charged his brother for the luxury of protection.
“I think this has something to do with what’s happening on the Sunside,” Wilder insisted. “Those torture robberies.”
All four brothers gaped at him.
“What the hell do your stupid smash-and-grabs have to do with what’s happening up there?” Lennox growled in anger. “Damn it, Wilder, some of us have better things to do than jump at your every stupid whim! I have shit to do today!”
Lennox rose from the table to leave, but Wilder snapped at him to sit down.
“Shut up and listen!” he barked. “Obviously, they don’t seem related on the surface, but there is a connection.” Everyone stared at him with skeptical impatience. “The families targeted on the Sunside,” Wilder continued. “Don’t the names sound familiar to you?”
Keppler had no idea what their names were.
“The Corrigans, the Ferdinands, and the Colliers,” his brother offered.
Again, a pang of familiarity resonated through Keppler, but before he could voice his question aloud, Reef beat him to it. “Who are they?”
Wilder grimaced in sheer annoyance as his brothers stared at him blankly. Keppler sensed they all thought there was a reason for knowing those names.
“You have got to be kidding me. Don’t any of you read history?” Wilder roared. “Or do you all spend your time fornicating and surfing?”
Keppler could not help laughing, with Reef echoing his sentiments. Wilder’s scowl only deepened.
“We’ve lived history. Why the hell should we read it?” Lennox revolted. “Just spit out what you’re trying to say!”
“Those were families who worked in our favor during the Battles of Wyvern,” Wilder finally said.
The words hung over the group with a heaviness that almost choked them. It was Owen who offered a voice of reason.
“First of all,” he started, “there is no possible way to confirm that those are descendants of the same clans who helped us.”
“I have confirmed it. I’m waiting on DNA profiles,” Wilder intoned, and Keppler was both impressed and aghast. He feared to ask how Wilder had managed to acquire either a sample from thousands of years ago or the ones from today.
“Well, until you know for certain, you can’t be sure. Those are fairly common names,” Owen insisted. “And secondly, do you know how many clans sided with us during that war? Hundreds! What are you suggesting? That someone is hunting down the old families to torture them for the role they played in the Battles of Wyvern?”
“In most of the other clans,” Wilder went on, “the key players have either died off or their descendants have given way to a female bloodline. They don’t exist anymore, not purely. The only ones that remain are the ones I mentioned and one last family on the Sunside: the Hollyfields. I’m willing to bet half my empire that they will be targeted next.”
“For something that happened thousands of years ago? For things they probably have no idea about?” Lennox howled, his face pinched in ire. “If what you’re saying is true, Wilder, why not just come after us?”
“Because we are far too formidable!” Wilder raged. “Why else?”
“No,” Keppler muttered. “The real question is, who would do that? There is only one enemy that would make sense on that front, and we know where they have gone.”
“You agree with me!” Wilder gasped, relief coloring his face. Keppler couldn’t understand how what his brother was saying would be possible.
“I don’t know, Wilder,” he mumbled, his mind working furiously. “The chances of it…” No, it can’t be. They’re all gone. We are the only ones who remain.
Reef had apparently heard enough. “This is insane!” he screamed. “You’re losing your mind, brother.”
Keppler rose to follow, as did the rest of his brothers, who waved their hand at him.
“Where are you going? We are under attack!” Wilder howled, but the princes ignored him, shaking their heads as they left.
Keppler, though, could not forget the face of the girl on the circulars nor the sense that he’d known her before. Could there be some logic to what Wilder was claiming?
“Hello?” Reef called, bringing him back to the present. “Did I lose you somewhere? We were talking about a girl and then you were off in a trance.”
“Sorry,” Keppler said quickly, wiping his greasy fingers on a napkin. A server appeared to refresh their drinks, and Reef eyed her appreciatively.
“You hire the best staff,” he sighed. “I really need to change my business plan. Yep, a seafood restaurant with servers who look like that. That’s my new plan. Taking that all the way to the bank.”
“Focus!” Keppler snapped, watching his brother’s wandering eye. “I met a girl in the park yesterday. I’m trying to find out who she is.”
Reef swiveled his head back to look at his brother. “I never really took you for the creeping type, Kep.”
Keppler frowned, resenting the implication. He would never stalk a woman, and if it wasn’t for the sketch and the meeting at the palace, he would not have brought her up at all.
“I’m just kidding!” Reef guffawed, seeing the look on his face. “Geez, what’s wrong with you?” Keppler shook his head, the strands falling in his face as he did.
“Nothing,” he answered hurriedly, flashing Reef a smile. “I’ve just got a bunch of stuff on my mind.”
“Have you talked to Castor about the girl?” Reef asked, and Keppler slowly shook his head. It had been his intention to speak with the Lycan driver first, but that was before Wilder’s tale had put seeds of doubt in his head.
“I don’t know if she’s one of us or if she’s a mortal,” Keppler explained, although in his heart, he was sure she was otherworldly, even if he couldn’t tell precisely what her power was.
“Hire an investigator,” Reef suggested, and Keppler immediately cringed at the idea.
Even better. Get the Authority involved! he mused. No, I’m just going to have to find her myself. With her face all over the news, though, I bet she’s going to keep a low profile going forward.
“Good idea,” Keppler replied, popping the last piece of calamari in his mouth before crumpling his napkin and shoving it onto the newspaper liner. It was the last thing he would do, but he had to start somewhere.
Keppler spent the night trolling through social media profiles, searching the San Francisco area for anyone who might resemble the woman from the park. He wondered if there wasn’t someone at the FBI doing exactly the same thing at that moment.
The difference is that I know what she really looks like. They only have a witness’s recollection of her face.
It seemed odd to Keppler that a sketch had surfaced at all. In the little bit of research he’d done on the crimes, the victims seemed to concede that their captors had worn masks the entire time. He didn’t know where the description of the girl had come from, but there was something decidedly confusing about the entire thing.
Could one of her companions have turned her in?
He shoved the distracting thought aside. There was no energy for jumping to conclusions. He knew that he had to find her and get to the bottom of what was happening before Wilder somehow got wind of her.
Around eight o’clock, he took a break, rubbing his burning
eyes as he rose to get himself some coffee. Perhaps he would enlist Castor’s help, too. He was discrete, and he could be trusted.
Keppler rolled his shoulders gently, hearing the slight crick as he moved and scoured the fridge for something to eat. He’d been hunched over the computer far longer than he’d realized. Who knew how much time could pass staring at pictures of attractive women?
I really need to go grocery shopping, he thought, shaking his head at the empty contents of the fridge. He grinned to himself at the notion. It was one he had often and never fulfilled. Why should he go grocery shopping? There was never anyone to cook for, after all, and as much as Keppler enjoyed the art of it, he was more apt to order Thai than he was to make a meal for himself. Or maybe I’ll do Cuban tonight.
He turned back to the laptop to pull up the GrubHub website. Before he could change screens, something on Facebook made him freeze. With fresh eyes, Keppler peered at the site, his pulse quickening.
Could that be her?
His head leaned forward, his eyes straining, and he inhaled sharply, squinting at the small image of a black-haired girl on a beach. Her hair was longer in the picture, her vivid eyes covered by a set of oversized sunglasses, but the electric shock that flooded his body was unmistakable. It was the same feeling he’d had when he had first seen her in the park.
It was her.
Bryn. Bryn Castil.
Apprehension filled Keppler’s gut as he gripped the mouse, hoping to find a better picture of her to confirm what he was already certain about. It was undoubtedly the same woman, what worried him was her last name: Castil. It was awfully close to Castillo. Had she shortened her name online in a futile attempt to stay anonymous?
Bryn Castillo had been a girl the last time he had seen her, but it had been so long ago, it was impossible to remember if they were one and the same. Was that why she had seemed so familiar to him? It wasn’t just déjà vu; he had actually seen her before, during a horrific time he never wanted to think about again.
But the past never stayed buried, and with a growing sense of unease, Keppler realized the truth.
Wilder was right. She’s here for revenge.
Suddenly, he wasn’t hungry anymore. He had inadvertently opened a can of worms that would cause a major rift in the Hollows.
He had a real dilemma on his hands.
5
Chester was at her door in less than half an hour, which filled Bryn with relief. She had hoped he wouldn’t tell Alma where he was going. If they were, in fact, a couple, it would be a very stupid move on his part.
“You came,” she breathed, leading him into the small living room. The house was charming, clean, and simple. Bryn could have afforded a much bigger place, equipped with a full staff if she had wanted, but the money was not important to her. Her share of the heists was spread in various safes all over the country. If she ever needed to get up and leave on a whim, she could access money or identification from anywhere.
The robbery was only to gather a team, she thought. I have no use for the money. My goal is to make the descendants of the traitors pay for what they did to us and reclaim what is mine.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you,” Chester growled, reaching for her. “From the first minute I saw you, I—AHH!”
The taser met his neck, and he crumpled to the floor. He looked up at Bryn in disbelief, his body twitching.
“Sorry, you were saying?” she asked, staring coldly at him. “From the first minute you saw me, you knew you were going to betray me?”
Chester shook his head, eyes bulging in pain as he lay on the floor. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he choked. “W-what do you mean?”
“You can cut the horseshit, Chester. I know all about what you and Alma have planned for tonight.”
If possible, his eyes grew wider, and for a second, Bryn idly wondered if they would fall out of his head. She would pay good money to see his leering eyeballs fall out of his scuzzy little sockets.
Chester moved to sit up, but Bryn raised the taser again.
“Move and I’ll throw water on you before shocking you next time.” He seemed to believe her and settled back against the floor, his eyes trained on her.
“That bitch told you?” he asked, and Bryn exhaled slowly.
So it is true, she thought. Out of the horse’s mouth. All right. Confirmation is good.
“Nope,” she said. “You just did. Get up.”
Chester seemed to turn opaque as he realized he had sold himself out.
“No! You’ve got it all wrong!” he cried. “We weren’t really going to do anything—”
“Get. Up.” Her words were flat and chilling. The fear in Chester’s eyes spoke volumes, and he scrambled to his feet.
“Please,” he begged. “Where are you taking me?”
“Shut up.” Bryn nudged him with the taser and forced him out of the living room toward the front entrance. He relaxed slightly, and Bryn smirked to herself. Did he think she was letting him go? “Open the basement door.”
Instantly, Chester’s back tensed again, and he obliged, casting her a look over his shoulder. “Bryn, I swear to God—”
She brought the taser up again and watched as his body convulsed, felling him again.
“I don’t believe in one god,” she replied sweetly. Then her tone hardened. “Get up.”
It took him a minute to gather himself, but Chester managed to stumble to his feet and fumble for the door handle. The basement was pitch black, and Bryn tried to remember the last time she’d gone down there for anything. A week ago, maybe, to do laundry? Could be.
She knew there was a chair and twine to bind Chester until she could figure out what else to do with him. The good news was, he wasn’t otherworldly, and therefore easy to maintain. As long as she tied him tightly enough and kept him away from an escape route, he would stay exactly where she wanted him to.
“Go,” Bryn ordered.
“I-I can’t see anything!”
“You are such a wimp!” she groaned. “Thank gods we used you for muscle. Bonehead.” She reached up and flicked on the light, gently shoving him forward, down into the unfinished basement. A spiderweb brushed by his face, and Bryn watched Chester shudder. She snorted again. “God, you’re worse than an infant. Hurry up.”
“Bryn, what are you going to do to me?” he demanded.
“What should I do to you, you treasonous asshole?” Bryn asked conversationally. “What would you do if you were me?”
“Just let me go, Bryn,” Chester begged. “I swear, you’ll never see me again! I won’t ask for my cut on this job—” Her laughter startled him, and he spun to her as they reached the landing, his eyes haunted.
“You really are an idiot, aren’t you?”
He gaped at her. “Did you talk to the cops about me?”
Bryn stifled a groan of fury. What kind of moron did I hire? What was he thinking?
“Bryn, we just wanted them off our tail,” Chester gasped. “I heard rumors that someone had seen my bike in the neighborhood, and—”
“Yeah? You heard rumors in the cafeteria? Did Suzy tell Charlie?” she asked in a mocking tone, pushing him into the broken chair against the wall. “You sold me out because someone gave you some street gossip? That sounds like a fair thing to do. I would ask why you didn’t come to me first, but I think I already know the answer to that.”
“Please, Bryn!” he screamed. “I swear, I didn’t think that anyone would ever identify you with the half-assed sketch I gave!”
“You gave the sketch?” Bryn asked. She had known he was an idiot, but that much of one? It seemed inconceivable.
“Well… yeah…” he mumbled. “I thought you knew that, too…” Bryn could see he wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole.
“And you couldn’t skew the sketch a little bit? Make me look like Cher, maybe?” The question was rhetorical, but Chester had no answer anyway. He knew he was done for.
T
he twine was nearby, and Bryn placed the taser down on the utility shelf to untangle it before wrapping it around Chester’s torso and arms.
“Shit, Bryn, that’s tight!” he protested.
“Shit, I don’t care, Ches,” she replied. “If you lose a limb due to lack of circulation, so be it. You’ve really pissed me off this time.”
“Please, Bryn, let me make this up to you! I’ll do this job, and you can have my cut!”
Bryn paused and stared at him, her sky-colored eyes flashing with spite and amusement.
“You really don’t get it, do you? I don’t need your cut. I can have anything I want without you. I don’t need you or your double-crossing bitch booty call. There is a reason why I keep you around, a reason you are far too stupid to understand. You guys need me. You just didn’t realize it until right now. But you’ll see. If you think I would ever trust you again after talking to the cops and trying to get me arrested—”
“No!” Chester interrupted her. “If I wanted to get you arrested, I would have just given them your name! I could have done that!”
“Not without getting yourself dragged into the mess,” Bryn said with a smirk. “No, you were smart enough to put yourself into the case as a witness. If they ever arrested me and I turned on you, you could cry retaliation. Alma told you to do that, didn’t she? Send the cops on my trail by giving them just enough to find me.”
Chester hung his head, and Bryn could not resist tightening the twine more, her blood boiling.
Betrayal everywhere, in everyone, she thought furiously. No one has ever watched out for me, no matter how much I have tried to look out for others. I have lived my entire life looking over my shoulder.
“You can’t—”
“If you try to tell me what I can or can’t do one more time,” she growled, “I am going to stuff a rag so far down your throat, you’re going to have fibers growing in your stomach lining. Stop talking.”
She finished fastening Chester securely to the rickety chair. It balanced only on three legs, and if he struggled, he’d fall to the concrete floor. Should she gag him? The idea was appealing, but it seemed unnecessarily cruel. After all, she wasn’t a killer at heart, not really. She didn’t particularly care to watch people suffer, no matter what the media thought of her.