Relics and Runes Anthology

by Heather Marie Adkins

  He stayed a careful distance away.

  I dropped my bag but slid my knife into a pocket. The opportunity to use it might present itself. Unable to think of an alternative, I snatched the gun from the turf. Angry and reckless, I pointed it back at Connor’s nose, safety off. He had everything and everyone I cared about at his mercy. I had nothing left to lose. His eyes widened, then his expression settled back into slightly amused scorn.

  ‘Oh well done, my dear.’ Michael drawled. ‘That’s more like what I expected from your kind.’

  ‘My kind?’ I slid my gaze to his, vowing not to show any more fear in front of this madman.

  The gaping muzzle of the Connor’s pistol stayed unwaveringly pointed at my head, making it hard to concentrate. Michael’s smug expression made me want to pull the trigger. The barrel aimed at Jennifer stopped me. I couldn’t be responsible for her death by killing a mere henchman in a moment of stupid anger.

  ‘The sidhe.’ Michael spat the words, his face twisting in disgust. ‘I’m hunting you down, one by one. We know all about your people. You’ve been trying to control humanity for thousands of years. And my family have been slaughtering you for a very long time.’

  ‘I think you have me confused with someone else, Mr Eisen,’ I said, trying to suppress the tremor in my voice. ‘Do you know how ridiculous you sound? You’re hunting fairies? If you have some problem with me, then I’ll do whatever you want. Just let the others go. They are nothing to do with this.’

  He laughed shortly. ‘I know you’ll do whatever I want, but not if I let them go. No, I have plans for all of you. None of them involve letting anyone go. First, you’ll tell me where the ocair is. Then you, my dear, are going to follow in your father’s footsteps.’

  ‘What?’ I dropped my arm in shock. ‘What the hell do you know about my father? He’s dead. What does he have to do with you or anything? What is an ocair? Your men asked me about it five years ago and I still have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  Michael’s face settled into cold calm. There was tension in Logan’s lean form; balanced on the balls of his feet, ready for action. But now was not the time. Not yet.

  If only I could contact him.

  Michael waved a languorous hand at me. ‘Your father, dear girl, was responsible for the death of my parents, thirty years ago. I’ve hunted him since I was eighteen years old. The Mors Ferrum – of which I’m a small cog – have been after him for far longer.’

  ‘So that’s what this is?’ I indicated the scene. ‘Revenge on me for something my father did before I was even born?’

  ‘Oh, not entirely. That would be plain crazy.’ He gave a soft laugh. ‘Money has a lot to do with it, too. And power.’ He picked up a drink from the nearby table and threw it back. ‘As for your father…I was not impressed to find him already dead. It took me years to find out he had a wife and child. I almost had you in that cathedral in New Zealand. And again, in Japan, two years ago. You must tell me how you got away from my man, by the way.’ Michael eyed me with detached interest. ‘After you escaped he didn’t live long enough to do so.’

  I covered my mouth with a hand, sickened.

  ‘Did she tell you?’ His question was directed at Logan, who remained silent and calm. ‘My man…had…her.’ Michael drawled the phrase into a deliberate double-entendre and smiled as Logan’s fingers fisted. ‘Then, just as he was about to bring her to me, she escaped and he died. So irritating.’

  I wanted to tell Logan; to explain. I’d been sixteen. Afraid if I protected myself a vision would come true and I’d kill him. So, I’d submitted; let him start to touch me, but couldn’t go through with it. And now the memories haunted me. His hands, his gasping, dying breaths, his blazing life pouring into me.

  I shoved the thoughts aside and tore my eyes from Logan’s stony countenance. Michael was just trying to get inside my head. I needed to concentrate. There had to be a way out of this.

  ‘Now.’ Michael smiled bleakly. ‘You’ll suffer as I did. You and your kind are a cancer inside humanity – destroying us from the inside. I intend to wipe you all out, starting with these three.’

  ‘You’re mad!’ I whispered, horrified. ‘I’m not my father and Jennifer is just a child. She doesn’t deserve to die. You can’t kill her.’

  He barked a laugh. ‘I’m not going to, you will. Then I’ll see to it you’re tried for triple-murder and put away for life as a lunatic – and we both know how long your life will be.’ He bowed. ‘I will, of course, use all my medical research department to analyse your brain physiology to try and find a “cure” for your insanity. After all, mankind should benefit from your abilities and I should benefit from them as well. Yes, you will suffer for a very long time and you will tell me where the ocair is.’

  ‘What possible motive would I have for shooting my friends? No-one will believe you.’

  He indicated his men. ‘There will be three reliable witnesses to tell how you went insane like your father and shot them in cold blood. I’ll be convincing, I assure you.’

  My heart stopped for a second as the horrible plausibility of his story sank home. My father’s death was a matter of public record. After my conversation with Paul earlier, he would reveal I’d received treatments for headaches. Maeve was a psychiatrist and my mother would never know any different, since I had withheld any other information.

  I looked to Logan for inspiration. He regarded me steadily, giving me nothing. I tried again to reach him telepathically but again failed. What was wrong with me?

  The drink.

  Michael had slipped something into my drink to block psychic abilities. That had to be why my brain was mush.

  ‘Now.’ Michael’s tone became brisk and businesslike. ‘It’s time. There’s just one bullet in that gun. You’ll shoot Freyson first. Then I’ll load another two and you’ll shoot the women.’

  ‘I won’t do it,’ I said. ‘You can’t make me.’

  Eisen sent me a pitying look. ‘Have you forgotten your mother? She’s safe as long as you do what you’re told. If you refuse or try to escape, she’ll die.’

  ‘Oh my...’ The enormity of his obsession broke over me and my knees sagged with the weight.

  To save my mother I had to sacrifice Logan and his family and even my own future.

  No. There had to be another way out. My heart lodged in my throat and strangled me. Head spinning, I sucked at the thick, damp night air. What could I do? How could I save them?

  But there was no other option.

  I looked at the gun I held.

  Darkness roared in my head, fogged and vague, thrashing like a chained dragon. I wanted to release it, but the drug held it in check.

  ‘Red.’ Logan’s deep voice caught my attention, drawing me back from the morass.

  He indicated my gun. ‘It’s ok.’ His voice was calm. ‘Do what you need. Save Anna.’ With a faint smile he patted himself over the heart. ‘Just do me a favour and shoot straight, please. I’d rather not die slowly.’

  I hesitated. A certain tone to his voice filtered through my fear. What if I got it wrong? Did he really have that much trust in me?

  I pointed the gun at Logan’s heart. The emerald and gold bracelet on my wrist glittered. And so my vision came to fruition.

  Logan had to die so I could save Anna, Maeve and Jennifer.

  Swallowing nausea and fear, I held his gaze one last time.

  ‘I’m sorry, Logan.’

  He nodded, his face impassive, body tensed. It wouldn’t help him against what I had to do.

  I held my breath, took careful aim... and squeezed the trigger.

  25

  The flash, roar and jerk of the gun tore through the thick air. Logan’s body jerked. He fell backward and onto his side, landing exactly as I’d foreseen. Blood poured scarlet onto the glossy green turf. His eyes closed, fingers loosely curled, mouth opened.

  I dropped my arm and took a step in his direction, only to be restrained by my personal thug. It too
k a massive amount of self-control not to break Connor’s hold and his neck. But this insane plan was only half-complete. I couldn’t stop now.

  Michael’s laugh rang out, exultant and loud in the shocking silence.

  ‘My God, girl, I didn’t think you had it in you.’ He gestured to his flunkey. ‘Check he’s dead. Then we’ll set up the others.’

  ‘No. Logan!’ I twisted out of Connor’s hold and ran towards Logan’s prone form. It took both of the men to restrain me. They dragged me, fighting all the way, to where Michael still held a gun to Jennifer. Connor dumped me on the ground and plucked the gun from my hand. He wore gloves.

  Panting and half-sobbing, I raised my head to look at Michael Eisen, hating him with all my heart. Where was the darkness within me when I needed it? I would drain him with pleasure.

  He regarded me coldly. ‘Now you’re starting to know what it feels like, aren’t you? Don’t worry. It’ll get worse. You’ve killed your boyfriend, now you’re about to kill his family.’

  Calmly he picked out one more bullet from his pocket.

  I had all of them close enough now. I had to push through the drugs and use my new skills, otherwise what was the point of having them? I reached into the untrained healing power and pictured burning the drugs from my blood. Perhaps it was my imagination, but my whole body warmed, my mind cleared a little. Encouraged, I stretched outward, seeking to draw energy to speed the healing process. I ignored the sharp pain behind my eyes that came from working around the last block.

  Connor and the other man went about setting up the murder scene to Michael’s satisfaction. They unwrapped the Freyson women and placed them side by side, slumped on the bench. Next they injected both with some sort of fluid that must be to counteract the sedative. Otherwise, in an autopsy, questions would be asked.

  Hope spurted. If I could delay things long enough, Maeve would wake and use her skills. Could her telekinesis handle three weapons and three men at once? One of them would get off a shot before I could do anything with a single knife. Maeve could do more. I just had to give her time.

  I had to try.

  My connection to the sianfath returned, but too slowly. I couldn’t separate Michael’s signature from Maeve and Jennifer’s. The other men, I could distinguish. They pulled me upright and dragged me aside. Michael raised his arm, the barrel pointed at Jennifer. His finger curled.

  Now or never.

  I pulled the dirty-orange life-force from Connor and John. But the process was painfully slow – too slow. It was like dragging my arm through thick, wet molasses. My brain was on fire. The men weakened but not fast enough. Michael’s shoulders shifted as he steadied his arm.

  I released the mental concentration and went back to something I knew better. The men held my arms...perfect. I dropped my weight. They gripped tighter. Even better. John grunted. Michael turned his head. I took a small step forward, dropped to one knee and flicked my arms. Near perfect double throw on the two guards. John let go and tripped over his own feet. Connor rolled into the back of Michael’s knees and took him to the ground in a flurry of arms and legs.

  A gun went off. I could only hope it hadn’t been aimed at Maeve or Jennifer.

  Maeve stirred slightly; eyelids fluttering. Only a few more seconds and she could help, surely.

  John regained his feet, swaying. Perhaps the after effects of my attempt to take energy from him. Michael and Connor began to disentangle themselves, swearing and shouting. Three at once? With guns? My technique wasn’t that good. My heart plummeted. I should have taken at least one out with the knife already.

  Hesitation had cost me the advantage.

  I ran at John. He raised his head. My palm cupped his chin and carried him up, back and down. His skull hit the turf with sickening hollowness. I couldn’t afford to stop and check him.

  Where was Michael?

  Arms wrapped around me from behind – Connor.

  I dropped my hips lower and tried to raise my arms to break the hold. He dropped with me and tightened his grip. My ribs ground against each other. Gasping for breath I tried to headbutt, to shin-kick – anything. He held on.

  Panic rose as Michael appeared in front of me. He cast me a disdainful sneer and brushed himself down.

  ‘You aren’t worth this much trouble, girl. I’ll get the location of the ocair from Anna.’ He jerked his chin. ‘Throw her over the edge. We can say she killed the adults then suicided. We’ll keep the youngest for our experiments.’

  Fury sleeted through me and I struggled anew. I was stronger than this idiot. No. Whatever was in that drink weakened me physically as well as mentally.

  Michael watched, smiling, as Connor dragged me to the edge.

  Out of the darkness a body flew into Michael’s. The pair crashed to the ground. I couldn’t see who landed on top. I was more focussed on not being thrown over the edge of a three-story building. The weakness in my limbs terrified me. I couldn’t think or move fast enough.

  Was this what being purely human was like?

  I kicked back and found a kneecap. Connor grunted. I dropped my weight and tried to slide out. He tightened his grip around my chest. He adjusted to re-pin my arms, but not quite quickly enough. I scrabbled for the knife in my pocket. It tore straight through the thin material. I jammed the blade up to the hilt in his thigh.

  He yelped and his arms relaxed. I slipped free, grabbing one hand and twisting as I turned. I snatched the gun from him. I had him in a wristlock. He wrenched back with a countermove that spoke of serious training. My arm twisted to breaking point. I shoved the gun into his stomach and squeezed the trigger. He turned and deflected my arm. The shot went wild, shattering glass somewhere in the house.

  Connor backed me up against the parapet. My feet flew off the ground. My wrist smacked into the concrete and the gun fell. The knife still protruded from his thigh but I couldn’t reach it. His mouth stretched into a snarl of white-hot rage and he pushed me further over the void.

  Another shot rang out, Connor gasped and jerked. Blood slid down his cheek. He collapsed forward. His momentum tipped me past my balance point.

  I fell.

  I clutched at the edge of the wall, clinging by fingertips made strong by fear and adrenalin.

  Someone grabbed my wrist just as I looked down.

  It was remarkably silent this high up – apart from the faint whistling of a warm tropical breeze that stole my breath; breath rushing harshly from my lips. My heart was oddly slow, as though it hadn’t yet realised the danger I was in. Wind, breath and the slow, steady pulse of blood in my veins. That’s all I could hear. Oh…and the sound of soft, triumphant laughter from the man holding my arm so tightly.

  Man? Was it a man, or some sort of ghost? I wasn’t sure now. Not sure if he’d keep holding on, or if he’d let go. I craned my neck to try and see his face but it was shadowed. All I glimpsed was the gleam of a pale eye and the white-tipped fingers of a tanned, strong hand.

  I glanced down and regretted it. The ground was a long, long way below. Could I survive? I looked up again and the man holding my arm raised his face. The silver glow of moonlight caught his strained, teeth-bared expression.

  Logan.

  An almost hysterical sob of relief escaped my aching lungs.

  He was alive.

  It had worked.

  ‘Can’t hold on all day, Red.’ He grunted. ‘Either lose some weight or get yourself back up here.’

  I scrabbled against the concrete wall with my toes, trying to find purchase. Pulling against his weight, I got my knees beneath me and inched my way up the wall. This was not as easy as it seemed in the movies.

  I was almost level with the railing. Logan gasped. His expression twisted into fear and regret. Then his grip relaxed and he collapsed over the railing.

  The handle of my knife, protruded from his neck.

  Windows flashed by and the ground rushed closer. With absolute and utter clarity, I knew I would die in a few seconds.

  My rec
urring dream had come true.

  Blackness surged; raging and burning out of the depths of my mind.

  26

  LOGAN!>

  Some uncountable time later, I staggered into the front door. My knees and hands shook uncontrollably. My mind burned in unspeakable agony. What had happened? One second I was falling, the next I stood at the front door, unharmed.

  Was Logan alive? And Maeve and Jennifer? Was Michael still up there?

  I wavered. My mother. If I went back to help the Freysons I might lose the chance to save Anna.

  Then, faintly, the sound of someone crying drifted through the still night air. Someone female. Jennifer? I couldn’t abandon them.

  I took the stairs two at a time. Each jump jarred my skull.

  The oak door to the top floor stood open. I crouched down to peer quickly around the frame. Tears of pain blurred my vision. I wiped them away. There was no-one in sight. I crept out. Still nothing.

  Outside, a car roared, wheels spinning as it took off down the driveway and into the dark street.

  Shit.

  The roof garden looked like a riot had taken place. A large pool of blood congealed where Logan had fallen from my shot. The food table lay overturned, plates and rich foods scattered in glistening, colourful piles. Michael and Connor had both vanished. The third man, John, lay on the ground, eyes open. Blood blackened the grass beneath him.

  Next to the wall where I’d fallen, Maeve and Jennifer knelt over a still figure. My heart jumped and stole the breath from my lungs. I hurried forward, my vision solely on Logan. After all this, he could not be dead.

  ‘Rowan!’ Maeve gaped at me. Her grey top and white pants were spattered with bright red blood. ‘But you fell!’

  ‘Later,’ I said curtly, gritting my teeth and swallowing nausea. ‘Is he...?’

  ‘No.’ Maeve bit her lip. ‘But we’ll lose him if we don’t do something fast.’

  I dropped as my knees gave way.