Dark Widow’s Blessing

by I. T. Lucas

  Smirking, Yamanu flipped his long hair back. “Yeah, it was fun pretending to be a rapper, but braiding my hair was a pain in the ass.”

  Julian chuckled. “My pain in the ass, since I was the one who did the braiding.”

  “Thank you, doctor.” Yamanu flashed him a grin. “You did a wonderful job. I only lost one-tenth of my hair. If Arwel did it, it would’ve been more.”

  Arwel flipped him the finger.

  “Besides, thanks to you we confirmed that Russians are naturally resistant to thralling,” Julian said. “That was the main reason behind the change of plans. Right, Turner?”

  In Julian’s opinion, the new plan was riskier than the original one, but he agreed with Turner that it was tighter. If everything went well, the scenario they were going to stage was going to be nearly impossible to disprove.

  Turner rubbed his hand over his jaw. “I’ve suspected Russians were naturally resistant to thralling for a long time, and that’s why I didn’t rely too heavily on Yamanu’s thralling ability. But the thing that made the original plan so difficult to pull off was Ella’s insistence on leaving Gorchenco alive and faking her own death. Causing a fire large enough to supposedly have her die from smoke inhalation, and at the same time not putting her in real danger, was too tricky for comfort.”

  Julian raked his fingers through his hair. “I was hoping she would change her mind, or that you would. But since Gorchenco is not even going to be there, that’s out. I’m worried about him coming after Vivian and Parker.”

  “Why would he do that?” Turner asked.

  The tactical mastermind had one flaw. Turner didn’t account for people’s emotions and expected them to behave rationally. In this case, Julian knew better. Gorchenco was going to be overcome with grief, and he would not just accept that Ella was dead without seeing her dead body with his own eyes.

  “Gorchenco is a suspicious son of a bitch. Even without a body to bury, he will expect a memorial service for Ella, and he will attend it. I doubt Vivian and Parker will be able to pull off a convincing act of grieving for her, and he will know that something is up.”

  Turner arched a brow. “So what do you suggest? That we fake their deaths as well?”

  “Why not? They are safe in the village, and we are going to get them fake documents anyway. For all intents and purposes, to the outside world, they are as good as dead.”

  “Don’t you think Gorchenco will get suspicious if they die the same day Ella does, and in unrelated circumstances?” Arwel asked.

  Julian got to his feet and started pacing the length of the executive lounge. “It doesn't have to be the same day. No one has heard from them or seen them since Magnus picked them up at the mall. Theoretically, they could’ve crashed into a lake or a ditch somewhere days ago, and their bodies were just discovered. We could plant a news story about a car found with two bodies in it.”

  For several moments, no one said a thing, letting Turner mull over the idea.

  “I need to call Vivian,” Turner said. “This is not something I can decide for her.”

  “But do you think it’s a good idea?”

  Turner trained his pale blue eyes on him. “It’s not absolutely necessary, but since we are going to all this trouble already, I agree that we shouldn’t leave any loose ends.”

  As Turner pulled out his phone, Julian stayed close so he could be part of the conversation and help convince Vivian if needed.

  “Hello, Turner,” she answered after several rings. “Do you have more instructions for me to communicate to Ella? Because if you do, it will have to wait until she contacts me again. She’s sleeping now.”

  “It’s not about Ella. It’s about you and Parker. It was actually Julian’s idea. He’s right here with me. I’m going to put you on speakerphone.”

  “Hi, Julian.”

  “Hi. How is Parker doing?”

  Vivian had called him with the good news, but they hadn’t talked since.

  “He’s doing well. The real rough part hasn’t started yet.”

  Turner cleared his throat, indicating that this was not the time for polite chitchat.

  “Tell Parker I’m proud of him. I’m going to let Turner continue now.”

  “Okay.”

  “We need to fake your and Parker’s death as well, but retroactively. Something about your bodies found in a car wreck which was just discovered. We can plant a story about it in one of the local newspapers.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if Ella supposedly dies in the explosion, and you two are well and alive, there will be a memorial service even if there are no remains. Gorchenco will attend for sentimental reasons and to make sure that she’s really dead. He’s not the type to just accept things without digging as deep as he can. But if you two are gone as well, then there will be no service. Unless you think some other family member will come forward and arrange for it.”

  “There is no one other than Josh’s sister, and I seriously doubt she would come forward. My parents, as you probably already know, are in an assisted care facility. They both suffer from advanced Alzheimer's. And that’s a problem. How am I going to visit them if I’m supposed to be dead?”

  “We will find a solution.”

  “It’s important to me, Turner. My parents don’t have much longer, and I don’t want to miss out on their last years even though they barely remember who I am.”

  “I didn’t say that we will find a solution just so you’ll agree to the plan. We will move them to a different facility, a private one that is closer to the village, and change their names. You will be able to visit them. I promise.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  “By all means.”

  “By the way, when you fake our deaths, you need to be aware of the message I left with the dental office. I told them that I’m traveling with a friend in her motorhome because Parker has chickenpox. I left that message when we escaped from the cabin on Monday.”

  “Did you mention the friend’s name?”

  “No. I just said a friend. A female friend.”

  Turner pushed his fingers through his hair. “We will need to arrange for three bodies and a motorhome. The report will state that the accident happened the day after you left the message. It will correspond with you falling off the grid.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  When the phone call was done, Julian walked over to the windows, but he had no interest in the busy street below. Instead, he pulled out his phone and opened it. Ella’s picture was now his wallpaper, so every time he used his phone, he could look at her beautiful face.

  He wondered how she was doing. Was she scared? Was she excited about the rescue? Was she going to be okay?

  50

  Vivian

  “Did you get any sleep at all?” Magnus padded into the kitchen, wearing nothing but loose pajama pants.

  Normally, the sight of his sculpted chest would have stirred the embers of Vivian’s desire, but not today.

  It was three o'clock in the morning, and they were supposed to meet up with Kian and Onegus, the chief Guardian, in an hour. Not in Kian’s office as she’d expected, but somewhere in the underground, in what Magnus called the war room, or mission control.

  That’s where they were going to stay until Ella was freed.

  “Not really. I think I dozed off a couple of times, but that was it. I’m too stressed out.”

  He hugged her from behind, kissed her cheek, and then started massaging her shoulders. “Is that better?”

  “Thank you, but it’s not going to help. I won’t be able to relax until this is over and Ella is home safe.”

  Undeterred, he massaged for a little longer.

  “Let me get you some coffee.” She pulled away.

  Magnus sat on one of the barstools and braced his elbows on the counter. “I spoke with Callie, and she’ll come over to stay with Parker. She wanted to be here as soon as we leave, but I told her that eight is good enough. He’s fine by himsel
f, and if he needs us, he can use the phone we gave him.”

  Vivian handed Magnus a full mug and sat on the barstool next to him holding hers. “He was disappointed about not being invited to the war room.”

  “I know. But I wasn’t even going to ask Kian or Onegus to allow it. Civilians in general are not allowed in there, and especially not kids. For obvious reasons, you are the exception.”

  Vivian chuckled. “Maybe Ella and I should join the force as backup communication devices. Our telepathy works in all weather conditions, and it will withstand even electromagnetic pulses and nuclear disasters. Provided we survive, that is.”

  Magnus wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll suggest it to Kian.”

  She put her head on his chest. “You will?”

  “No way. I don’t want either of you anywhere near danger ever again.”

  That was a bit hypocritical of him, but this wasn’t the time to bring it up. “We should get dressed.”

  “Right.”

  “Should I make a thermos with coffee?”

  “No need. I’m sure Okidu is going to be there serving coffee and food throughout.”

  “Kian brings his butler to the war room?”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s a civilian.”

  Magnus chuckled. “I guess Okidu has a high-security clearance.”

  It was still dark outside as they walked toward the pavilion, and with no streetlights and the dense canopy of trees blocking the moon, Vivian could barely see where she was going. Except, with Magnus’s arm around her waist, she could close her eyes and just let him lead the way.

  In the pavilion, they took the elevators to one of the underground levels, which looked a lot like the ones in the keep.

  It was hard to believe that they had moved into the village only two days ago. It already felt like home, while the keep seemed like something that had happened a long time ago.

  Kian was waiting for them in the room that was almost an exact replica of his above ground office. With him was a blond with curly hair and a most charming smile.

  “Hello, Vivian. I’m Onegus.” He offered his hand.

  She shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

  He pulled out an earpiece from his pocket. “This is for you. When the operation starts, you’ll have a direct line to Turner.”

  “Thank you.” She looked at the device, not sure how to put it on.

  Magnus took it from her hand. “You pull this little hook away and wrap it around your ear.” He put it on for her.

  “How do I make it work?”

  “I’ll explain in a moment. But first, let’s go over the markers the team have put in place.” Onegus pointed to the oblong conference table in the center of the room. “Please, take a seat.”

  He waited for her and Magnus to be seated before continuing. “The first marker is obviously when they leave the airport.” He clicked a remote, and a map appeared on the big screen mounted on the sidewall.

  “The second marker is when they get off the highway. And the third is about five hundred feet after that. A guy will be changing a flat tire of a full-sized red van.”

  “Got it.”

  “Maybe you should write it down. It might be several hours until Ella contacts you again.” Kian got up, pulled out a new yellow pad from a drawer, and brought it to her. “In a stressful situation, your memory might become fuzzy. It’s better to have a list of the important things.”

  “Sure.”

  She wrote a headline and the three markers under it. “Done.”

  “By the way, your and Parker’s deaths are in today’s San Diego Union-Tribune. You should let Ella know in case she somehow stumbles upon it.”

  “That was fast. How did you manage it?”

  Kian smirked. “We have excellent hackers that can plant and change official records, let alone stories in newspapers.”

  Vivian shook her head. “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I spent a lot of time thinking about it. Without actual bodies, it’s not going to withstand careful scrutiny. If Gorchenco really puts his mind to it, he will find out that it was faked. And even if you can get some mangled up cadavers from somewhere, Parker and I have dental records. It’s not difficult to prove that it wasn’t us.”

  Kian lifted his hand. “I hope he doesn't go so far. We are staging Ella’s death very carefully. Our hackers had her retroactively registered as a body donor. We are going to make it look as if her body was misplaced and never arrived at the research university where it was supposed to. It should be enough.”

  Vivian was still uncomfortable with the whole thing. It would have been better to hold the fake memorial services for Ella. Even if her acting was not top notch, it would’ve been less suspicious than everyone in her family dying. Gorchenco was going to suspect something was up.

  Except, it was too late. She should’ve voiced her reservations the day before.

  On the other hand, she was just a civilian with no experience. Turner was the expert, and she should trust him to do his job.

  “What will happen with my house? That’s all I have.”

  Kian smirked. “You keep underestimating us. Our hackers had it recorded as held in trust as of two years ago. We are going to sell it for you.”

  “What about the sale proceeds? Money leaves traces.”

  “In the case of no surviving family members, the trust donates the house to a charity. Which, of course, is one of ours. You’ll get your money. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Wow, you’ve really thought of everything.”

  “Can’t take credit for that. It was Bridget’s idea.”

  Vivian nodded. “Awesome teamwork. Thank you.”

  Kian looked pleased. “We take care of our own, Vivian.”

  51

  Ella

  Ella’s tablet didn’t have an internet connection, the function was disabled, but the clock application worked offline, which made it easy to find out what time it was anywhere in the world.

  It was seven-thirty in the morning in New York, and judging by the pressure in her ears, they were about to land.

  Dimitri had gone to sleep hours after her and still had woken up several hours before her, unintentionally waking her as he left the room.

  After that, she couldn’t go back to sleep. Dressed and ready to go, she waited impatiently to communicate with her mom.

  Four-thirty was still too early, but Ella couldn’t wait any longer. Her belly was full of butterflies, or rather hornets since it was aching something fierce. It hurt more than it had during her time in the auction house, which was saying a lot.

  She was about to participate in a Mission Impossible style full-blown production, except the props were going to be real, and so were the explosions.

  It was terrifying, and not only because she feared for her life. Misha was going to be with her, and she had a feeling her rescuers wouldn’t be as careful with him as they were going to be with her. No one other than her would care if the Russian bodyguard got accidentally blown up.

  No one knew that under the rough exterior he was a nice guy. She was going to miss him.

  Oh, well. Ella sighed and wiped the few stray tears away.

  It was stress, nothing more. Misha was just doing his job, and he wasn’t really her friend. She was going to leave everything about this life behind and start afresh.

  Glancing at the ostentatious ring on her finger, Ella debated what to do with it. She couldn’t leave it on the plane because Dimitri would suspect something, but she didn’t want to take it with her either.

  On second thoughts, though, she could donate it to the people rescuing her. Maybe they could sell it on the black market or something like that. Cutting it into smaller stones would devalue it, but selling it as it was might be too dangerous.

  Dimitri was going to look for his enormous diamond.

  Except, theoretically, the ring could get lost and then taken by anyone on the accident scene to be sold later.

  It w
ould be poetic justice.

  Dimitri’s ring would cover the expenses of her rescue, and there would probably be enough left over to finance many more.

  Yeah, she was definitely keeping it.

  When another ten minutes passed, and the pressure in her ears got worse, Ella opened the channel to her mother.

  Mom, are you awake?

  Yes, sweetie. I’m here with Magnus and his bosses. I have several instructions for you.

  Shoot.

  Remember what I told you about the time markers?

  Yes. I’m to tell you when I see them.

  The first one is when the car you’re in leaves the airport. The second is when it gets off the highway.

  Her mother stopped for a moment.

  I just thought of something. The driver might choose an alternative route and get off somewhere else. You need to make sure that it’s the exit near the estate.

  Got it. I’ll ask Misha, my bodyguard.

  The third marker will be about five hundred feet after that. A red van with a flat tire on the side of the road, which the driver will be changing.

  Got it. Exit the airport, exit to the estate, and a red van with a flat tire. Anything else?

  Yes. If someone tells you that Parker and I are dead, don’t panic. The organization planted a fake news article about finding our bodies burned to a crisp in a motorhome that flipped into a ditch.

  What motorhome?

  When we were running away from Gorchenco’s goons, I left a message at the dental office that I’m not coming in because Parker has chickenpox and a friend invited us on a trip in her motorhome.

  Ella chuckled quietly. And the plot thickens.

  The tablet was in her hands the entire time she was talking with her mom, so the chuckle could be explained as something funny she’d read. She was pretty sure there was a surveillance camera hidden somewhere or a listening device. And the tablet itself was a concern too. Regrettably, she would have to leave it behind.

  Right? her mother said. After this is over, we can write a book about it.