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BREACH.
Details can be found at the end of
FORECAST OF SHADOWS
Copyright © 2020 Bronwyn Leroux
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact the author at [email protected]
https://bronwynleroux.com/
Cover design by Lena Yang Designs
ISBN: 9798634064642
Forecast of Shadows
Bronwyn Leroux
Chapter One
Living every day knowing the future before it happens is hell. But it has its advantages. Like making me the infamous female leader of one of the most notorious gangs in a decimated world. And warning me when we have new clients headed our way.
I follow my lackey, Jones, out of the abandoned high-rise that’s our base. As one of the few buildings that’s still mostly intact, my enemies salivate over claiming it. Yeah, right! Between its height providing unprecedented views of the surrounding area and my ability, we can see any threat coming.
Exercising caution in the long shadows of late afternoon, we navigate wrecked cars, trashed streets, and the rubble from buildings destroyed in the decades-long war between nations. The defunct governments always meant to fix things—until the arrival of Aberrants sabotaged any hope of salvaging what the rulers had left of the world.
I scan the area as Jones heads for the crumbling ruins housing the guest room. Nothing out of the ordinary. But it’s almost too quiet. And I can’t shake the feeling something’s wrong.
The guest room, where we meet potential clients, is a misnomer, since it’s devoid of anything a guest might expect. It’s my solution for thwarting the countless curs who came to our base pretending they wanted a forecast but who were really gathering intel against me to sell to my rivals. Learning from my mistakes, I now restrict our base and gathering chamber to gang members only.
A nightclub in the old days, we gutted the guest room so nothing remains for anyone to use as a weapon. However, we preserved the viewing room hidden in the false ceiling. Not only will watching gang members know to intervene should our guests turn nasty, but they can witness the guest interviews—another thing I learned early on. Transparency is essential. Every gang member knows what gigs we have going on, what we’re getting paid for them, and our current financial state.
In the beginning, it meant no complaints when we had to cut rations because funds were tight. Those days are long past. Now they all earn a portion of the gigs, and well-paid gangsters are happy gangsters. Score another few points on the ranking scale that allows me to stay at the top.
I slide into the room. Trent, my lieutenant, is already there, securing our spot right next to the exit. Our “guests” are against the wall farthest from us. Numerous curious gang members lurk between them and any means of escape.
With a practiced glance, I size up the man and woman. Tailored clothes, manicured fingers (the man too), and coiffed hair. Yes, they’ll have the means to pay. But will they be able to live with the aftermath? “I’m Forecaster. State your business.”
Interestingly, the woman takes the lead after a nervous glance at my blade. “I’m Grace Owens, and this is my husband, Matt. Our daughter, Beth, disappeared two days ago. When we received a ransom demand, we heard you might help.”
I did not see this coming. I’m so stunned I can only stare. Is this KN?
Trent’s worried eyes find me. “Forecaster?”
His inflection and tone tell me two things. First, by using my gang moniker, not my real name, he knows where my head’s at. Second, he’s reminding me my anonymity has kept me safe all these years. There’s no reason to panic.
I’ve taken too long to reply—not my usual style. I focus on finding clues in the situation at hand. It’s what’s kept me alive this long.
“You can afford the ransom. Why not pay and have it over and done with?”
Grace licks her lips and sneaks a glance at her husband. “We’ve heard rumors.”
I stiffen. “What sort of rumors?”
“Paying the ransom doesn’t guarantee getting your child back. When you drop off the money, the only thing you get is a bullet in the head.”
My mind races. How have I not heard these rumors? I’ve been actively searching for KN all this time. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
Grace obliges. “There’s not much to tell. Matt and I were out. When we came home, we couldn’t find Beth. We started looking for her immediately, searched throughout the night, but we couldn’t find her. Hunted all the last two days with no luck. Then we got the call this morning.”
I cock my head. Something about Grace’s explanation doesn’t ring true, but I can’t put a finger on it. In the time it took to reach the guest room, dusk fell, so why did it take all day for them to contact me? “What were their demands?”
“Bring the money to the corner of Lowell and Strand at four o’clock three days from now.”
“Three days from now?” The idea is ludicrous.
Grace shrugs. “That’s what he said.”
I pause, processing. If this is KN, I shouldn’t be so surprised. I was also taken when my parents weren’t home. And it was a few days as well before my parents came. But those few days, the things that happened while I was his prisoner . . . no, I won’t go there. But if KN’s using Beth like he used me—I have to get her back.
“You’re aware you pay my fee upfront?” When the woman shrinks, I raise my eyebrows. I rarely misread peoples’ ability to pay. Then I realize my error. They spend everything they get as soon as they get it.
My mind spins back to the mother who claimed she couldn’t pay because she needed every cent for a surgery to save her kid’s life—the mother the gang turned away.
I should’ve left it there, but I couldn’t. I mean, c’mon, the kid was three years old! When I secretly sent her word of the winning combination for a small upcoming lottery, you bet she used the information. Then she promptly abandoned her child when she won, using the cash for a wild night of partying, which ended with her stabbed and left to die in a squalid alley.
I think of Talia, the kid the mother discarded. The kid Trent secretly retrieved and brought here after her vital surgery. The kid now being raised by a gang of thugs. Look how that forecast turned out for her and her mother.
But this is different. I can’t ignore Beth’s plight if KN has her. There must be a way for her parents to pay.
Chapter Two
Silent panic suddenly rises in my chest, making it difficult to breathe. What if it really is KN who took Beth? If she has to endure what I did, and I could’ve stopped it?
For the first time in longer than I can remember, emotion cracks the ice encasing my heart. Beth’s predicament is too keen a reminder of my own trauma, her situation too close to my own for me to pass up. How would I have turned out if there had been someone there to save me?
But I have no choice. If her parents can’t pay, we can’t take the gig. My crew look at the parents like wolves approaching a wounded deer.
It kills me to say the words. “I don’t do forecasts for free. Come back when you have the cash.”
“No, please,” Grace shrieks, stretching out a
hand. “We can pay. As soon as we get Beth back, we can pay as much as you want. Double. Triple.”
That stops everyone in their tracks. Her words freeze my soul. No one offers double, let alone triple. And the way Grace sounded . . . like her earlier tone. Then I get it. It’s desperation. But not to get their kid back because they love her. Because she has something they want.
Rage fills me. “Do you think I’m a fool? We don’t take payment after a gig. You give us the cash before, or there’s no deal.”
To my delight, Grace squirms. “Please, you don’t understand.” She sneaks a peek at the other gang members leering at them. “If we could get a private audience with you, we can explain.”
Oh, I understand, alright. KN took Beth for her gift, the same as me. But unlike me, it’s the only reason her parents want her back. For her ability to keep them in luxury, if their polished appearance is anything to go by. “We don’t keep secrets here. If you have something to say, say it. Everyone gets to hear.”
My pleasure deepens as Grace glances at her husband. Indecision bounces between them. Do they tell a gang of thugs what their daughter’s ability is? Do they risk someone else taking Beth for the money she can generate?
Dread douses my amusement. Not only at what this kid’s parents are doing to her, but because there’s no longer any doubt in my mind. Somehow, I missed the signs. Didn’t hear the pattern echoing through from the past. But KN’s back. After all these years, he has returned.
“Please, we’re good for the money. Allow us to pay afterward,” Grace cries. “Let us just explain—”
“Silence!” My voice slices through her pleading, and her eyes go wide. Her husband takes a step back. I glare at them. My gut screams something is wrong. I intend to find out what. “Did you bring her picture?”
Looking uncertain, Grace raises her hand, her eyes skittering around the guest room. The gesture reminds me of photographs from the past century where kids used to raise their hands in class for permission to speak. Adequately mollified, I nod, smirking. “I have pictures on my POD. Could I have it back?”
No way she’s getting access to her Personal Office Device. I glance at Crystal, our gatekeeper, and she points at a POD in the containment unit. Coldly, I stare at Grace. “Password?”
Grudgingly, Grace gives it up. Crystal keys it in and, with a flick of her wrist, sends a picture of Beth to the holoscreen next to the containment unit. Grace opens her mouth, but words fail her when she sees my face.
Excellent, she’s learning her place. My crew hanging out in the hidden ceiling are probably all laughing at her by now. I can’t think about that, though. If I’m not safe, neither is Beth.
I stare at her image. She’s only a kid. Around ten, or maybe a little older. Tough to tell because she’s waifish, with pale skin and eyes huge in her small face. How could her parents not mention she was so young?
Glaring at Grace, I snort derisively when I notice her flinch. Yeah, you’d better be scared. The only reason a parent doesn’t worry about such a young kid is because they’re more interested in something else. I slide my gaze over the expensive clothes again. Yes, her only value to you is the money she generates. She’s your human slot machine.
Without showing it, I bring my gift to the forefront. I have to know what this kid can do—and if it’s as valuable as my gift. It would be the prime reason KN snatched her.
I traverse the routes the future presents to me. The first and brightest route leads to a disquieting end. Sucking in my disgust, I follow another. This and the third have the same conclusion. A few routes later, I know what these despicable people are hiding. Her ability to purify polluted water is more valuable than even mine.
It also confirms KN took her. Doubtless right now, the same vile Aberrant who forced me to use my gift against my will is working on her—and that’s the least of what KN will do to her.
How can Beth’s parents be such monsters? Memories flood back of my own parents. They did everything they could to protect me. To keep my secret safe. To hide me from those who would abuse me for their own ends.
But Beth? She has no one. If I don’t help her, who will? Because Beth’s parents using her gift for their own gain is not the worst of it. That they’ve been abusing her years has fury raging beneath my calm exterior. That they will continue to keep her locked up in that closet of a room with only a tiny, barred window high on the wall is cruel beyond belief. That she may never make friends or play outside or enjoy fresh air or feel the sun warming her skin is an abomination I won’t tolerate.
Beth’s parents are the polar opposite of the parents who are my deepest regret. The parents who wanted a baby to love. I told them they could have it because the route was so bright, it had to be the right one.
But I was in too much of a hurry. I should’ve taken more care, should’ve traced more routes. Should’ve noticed that, while there was a baby, there’d been no pregnancy. The baby was adopted, not biological. Then I might’ve realized the parents were never meant to have a child created from their union. That the mother would die in childbirth, her baby with her. That a grieving father would always wonder why he’d listened to me.
Their forecast haunts me the most. The couple were the embodiment of forever love. When the father returned demanding a refund and compensation, alerting me to the folly of my arrogance, it led me to trace the consequences of my forecasts for others. Ultimately, it became my catalyst for getting out of the game.
Under all this, another thought drives me on. If I can do this, if we can get this right, I’ll find KN. I’ll have the closure I need. I can move past this terrible chapter of people always wanting to know what they shouldn’t. One more set of forecasts. Just one more. . .
Because I have to save Beth. That innocent little face staring back at me from the holoscreen is me three short years ago. I can’t bear to think of her suffering as I did under KN’s “care.” The ice around my heart cracks a little more. Only a quirk of fate saved me from an abysmal upbringing. KN will not destroy Beth’s innocence, like he did mine.
Studying her parents, I steeple my fingers. “You said Beth’s gift would allow us to get payment. I see it will. And I can do the forecast to allow us the best chance of getting her back at the ransom point.”
Dark joy sparks when Grace and Matt relax. They don’t know what I have planned for them. “However, there are no guarantees. And my crew and I are not in the habit of doing work without an upfront payment.” The tension returns to Grace and Matt’s faces. I deliver the blow they won’t feel until much later. “But I will accept payment another way.”
Abruptly, my crew’s restless movements still. They sense something appealing to their baser instincts. Admittedly, it appeals to mine too. Beth needs my help. I’ll do what I must to rescue her.
Chapter Three
I feel Trent’s eyes on me, but I can’t look at him. If I do, I’ll back out. I tell myself he’ll understand when he knows my reasons.
Grace’s parents stare at one another, confused. This time, Matt dares raise his hand. “We don’t understand. How can we pay if we don’t have the coin?”
Raising an eyebrow, I lean back against the wall. “You’ve never heard of bartering?”
Excited whispers ripple through the crew in the room. They’ve seen me do this before. Usually, they get to decide the terms, but not this time. I shoot an acidic glance their way, and the susurrations cease.
This time, Matt forgets to raise his hand. “I have, but what could we—”
Trent’s fist smacks into the soft tissue of his stomach. “Did you have permission to address Forecaster?”
Matt doubles over, wheezing, eyes watering, so Grace raises her hand. I take evil pleasure in her trembling. “Yes?”
“Matt’s sorry.” Grace gives him a venomous glare. “He’ll apologize when he can speak again. Until then, please accept my apology on his behalf.”
I grin. I swear, if she could kick the guy at this moment, she would
. But she’s too scared of me. Outstanding.
Grace raises her hand again, and I nod. “Could you please tell us what you want? We’ll do anything to get Beth back.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Anything?” Grace nods vigorously. She does not understand what she’s agreed to. “In that case, flesh is bringing in a pretty penny these days. How about a pair of hands?”
Shock reverberates around the room. Everyone gapes at me, even my crew. I’ve never demanded such a payment. The only person unfazed is Trent, his gaze speculative. He knows me too well and understands I would never make such a hideous request without an unbelievably good reason.
Matt and Grace’s faces are whiter than their perfect, pearly teeth. Grace chews on her lips, her eyes glued to my glaive. I grin, and she shrinks back. Let her think I’ll be chopping their hands off with it.
Finally, Matt raises a shaking hand, and I lift my chin in consent.
Matt’s voice quavers. “A pair—” Grace’s sharp elbow to his ribs makes him start again. “I apologize for my earlier lapse in judgment. I won’t speak without permission.” He sneaks a glance Grace’s way and, noticing she’s satisfied, returns to his original question. “A pair of hands? You mean, you want to cut off our hands?”
“Is that a problem?” My crew gapes anew. I hide my disgust at the glee on some of their faces. A few weeds in our garden need removal.
But if my crew knew what was happening to Beth right now because her parents failed to protect her, because they flaunted her gift, my request would make my crew cheer.
Ignoring the whispers, I address Beth’s parents. “We both know what Beth’s capable of. The income her ability can generate won’t only cover your offer of triple my fee, but also the cost of recovering your hands from the flesh merchant I’ll pawn them to. Not to mention paying for the surgery to reattach them.”
Forecast of Shadows Page 1