The Curse: The Butterfly Effect, Book 2.

by Margaret McHeyzer

  “Until we establish you’re not a threat, I’m sorry; we can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t? Two very different things. If I came to find you, then by process of elimination you have to agree I’m not a threat.”

  “We’ve been discussing this. Why did you attempt to find us?”

  “Attempt? I did find you. If I didn’t go to Dallas’s house, you would’ve had no idea where I was.”

  I keep blinking, and finally my vision is clearing.

  “We knew where you were.”

  This guy is pissing me off. His condescending tone is irking on the side of irritating. “Is that right? That’s why I came to you?”

  “We were assembling a crew. The only obstacle was the fact Mr. Caley had hired out the entire twentieth floor of the Ritz Carlton. But, rest assured, Alexa, we were only a step behind when you decided to run.”

  My stomach twists with anxiety as my blood cools to ice. My hands shake and heart hammers. Shit. Jude.

  My first reaction is to worry for Jude. I got out of there so no harm would come to him, and now, it seems that it doesn’t matter if I stayed or left, he was only ever an obstacle.

  Panic bubbles away, while the chaotic thoughts in my head struggle to form a sane plan. I need to pull myself together, not let my heart get in the way. I’m here for a reason. I have to push my emotions to the side and focus.

  I stare down at the floor, and take several deep breaths. Get yourself together, Alexa.

  “I want you to remove the cuffs.”

  “We can’t until we establish your stability.”

  “What you’ve done to me has caused so much hurt. I don’t want it to create even more. I have no reason to cause you any problems.” Please, believe me.

  “We’ll ask you a few questions, and we’ll go from there.”

  The only thing I can do is answer their questions. I really have no choice in the matter. “What do you want to know?”

  “Your ability hasn’t been tracked the way we were hoping. We’d like to test it, and see exactly what you can do.”

  Crinkling my brows, I look around the room and finally notice the discreet cameras positioned strategically. Eight that I can see, but there are probably more. “No need to test me, I can tell you what I can do. But, I’d like to ask some questions of my own.” There’s silence, negative confirmation that they’re willing to answer anything. I count seventy breaths before I say, “Hello, is anyone there?”

  “We’re still here, Alexa. Your request has been denied. Now, to start, how far in advance can you see?”

  “What? My request has been denied? Are you kidding me? You’ve got me shackled like a damned animal, and you’re refusing to answer any of my questions? Guess what, you can go fuck yourself if you think I’m going to answer any of yours.” They have to be joking. I’m so damned angry at them, and at myself. How stupid of me to think I’d get answers.

  Squaring my shoulders, I decide if they’re not answering any of my questions, then I’m going to refuse to answer any of theirs.

  “Alexa, it’s in your best interest if you . . .”

  “If my hands weren’t cuffed together, you’d be able to see what I’m doing now. Which, incidentally, in case one of your cameras is missing it, I’m flipping you off. Meaning, go screw yourself.”

  “Alexa,” the voice warns over the speaker. I pretend to yawn and look around the room completely disinterested. “How far in advance can you see?” he asks again with a slight bite of urgency.

  “I’m really tired now. I think I’ll go to sleep,” I reply. Closing my eyes, I try to get into a comfortable position, which is impossible, secured to a chair.

  “Alexa, how far in advance can you see?” Nope, buddy. Not gonna get an answer from me. “Alexa, how far in advance can you see?” he asks again, his tone turning clipped and frustrated.

  A woman comes over the speaker. “Alexa Murphy, you’ve been asked a question.”

  I stare at one of the cameras, cocking an eyebrow and smirking.

  “Stop acting like a brat,” the woman says.

  “Then you shouldn’t have given this ability to a teenager,” I snap. Still smiling, and damn well pleased with myself, I sit against the chair and pretend to yawn again. I’m not answering their questions until they answer some of mine.

  “Alexa!” the woman yells.

  Pretending to startle, I open my eyes and smile. “Yes.”

  “Answer the question.”

  “When you answer mine.”

  “We’ll be forced to sedate you and judge you as hostile.”

  Here we go again. “And then you won’t have the answers you want.”

  They want stubborn, then I’m going to give them stubborn. They can threaten me as much as they want, but what I’ve worked out is that they obviously need me. If they didn’t, they would already have killed me. I’m way too valuable to them without even knowing what I’m capable of. Once they find out what I can do, then I’ll become a priceless asset.

  No one says anything for a long time. They don’t respond, and I don’t feel any urgency to talk to them either. Both sides are quiet. At some point, someone will break. I’m hoping it’s not me, because if I break now, they’ll forever have control over me. And I refuse to allow them to manipulate me any more than they already have.

  A low, dull ache develops in my shoulders from the way my arms are pulled behind me. Instead of telling them, so they can use that as leverage over me, I say nothing. With my shoulders hurting more and more with each passing minute, my brain yells at me to give them what they want.

  But the pain is also a reminder of why I’m here to begin with. Because of them, I’ve been kidnapped, lost my parents, and my best friend was nearly killed. Stubbornness sets in, and suddenly I see past the hurt in my shoulders. Determined, I’m focusing on the suffering they’ve caused.

  I stay like this for such a long time. My body is aching, my shoulders spasm, and my bladder decides now is a good time to pee.

  There’s no denying the deafening, intense silence in the room. But I refuse to let them get inside my head. I absolutely will not allow them to win this battle.

  Time keeps ticking, and my body is protesting loudly. Every part of me hurts. My spine is tender and I can’t shift my weight to get comfortable. My butt cheeks feel like I’m sitting on a cushion of pins, while my calves are cramping from not moving. Not to mention my bladder is now about to erupt. Inside my head I chant, don’t pee yourself, don’t pee yourself.

  “Alexa,” the man’s voice says. In response to him calling my name, I look at one of the cameras. I don’t say anything. “Are you ready to talk now? You’re looking uncomfortable.”

  Screw them!

  Grinding my teeth together, I feel a snarl about to rip through me. Don’t pee yourself.

  “Are you ready to talk?” he asks again.

  Don’t pee yourself.

  “I’m ready to answer one question.”

  “How far in advance can you see?”

  “I’ll answer your question, if you let me go to the bathroom.” Please, don’t pee yourself.

  “We’ll let you go to the bathroom once you’ve answered our question.”

  There’s no way they’ll hold up their end of the bargain. Although I’ll be completely humiliated, these stupid white pants will be stained yellow, and the smell will be sickening, I’m completely prepared to pee myself because I can’t let them get the upper hand over me. “No.” I take a deep breath and press on. “I’ll answer the question once you let me go to the bathroom.”

  I move my thighs together, holding the pee in. If I don’t get an answer in the next few seconds, I’m afraid of what’ll happen.

  Suddenly, the door opens, and a masked person enters. I notice their entire body is covered in clothing, so I have no opportunity to touch them. “Get up,” says a male voice.

  “Good one, Einstein. I’m cuffed,” I sarcastically retort. Idiot. “Apparently, you don’t have to
be smart to work here.”

  He walks around behind me, takes the cuffs off, then grabs me by the shoulder of the t-shirt, yanking me up to my feet. “Go.” He pushes on my back toward the door.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I snap toward him. “Are you all gutless wimps, or is there a reason you refuse to show your faces? Maybe you’re butt ugly? Or maybe you have a cold sore festering that’s so huge it’s taken up half your face?”

  He chuckles, but quickly clears his throat. “Go straight down the corridor.”

  The corridor is white, sterile and lifeless.

  “Or maybe you’re not hideously disgusting to look at, and you’re a well-known celebrity. Oh, are you Tom Cruise? I love Tom Cruise. If you’re him, can I have your autograph?” I turn to look at the masked man, and place my hands together like I’m praying to him. “Or, maybe you’re Leonardo DiCaprio. Prrrr,” I purr toward him.

  “Turn left at the end.”

  “Okay, so you’re not Tom, or Leonardo. Hmmm, are you a singer? Maybe you’re Harry Styles, but you don’t have a sexy English accent, so that eliminates Harry. Oh! I know who you are, you’re John Legend. Man, can you sing.”

  “Bathroom is on the right.”

  I see the sign for the ladies, and I push the door entering the small bathroom with three stalls. Hurriedly, I go into the first cubicle and move to shut the door. The masked man pushes it open and stands right in front of me. “Do you mind?” I shriek. “You can wait over there, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Sorry, instructions are I have to wait with you.”

  “Like hell you are. Get out.” I push on his chest, but it’s like he’s made of solid stone, he doesn’t budge. “Get out!” I yell louder.

  “I’m trained to handle these situations.”

  “You’re not watching me get naked from the waist down. I can’t see your eyes, you might be a sick perve who gets off on watching girls pee.” He plants his feet, pulls his shoulders back, and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “It’s humiliating enough having you in here, can you at least give me some dignity and turn around?”

  He lets out a strangled breath, but turns. “There.”

  Pulling my pants down, I sit on the toilet and of course, performance anxiety sets in. “You can’t be serious?” I mumble to myself.

  “Everything okay there?”

  He looks over his shoulder and I pull my shirt down so he can’t see anything. “Hey, eyes to the front.” He quickly turns back. “Your presence is preventing me from peeing. And this is a huge problem when your bladder is about to explode.”

  “Hurry up.”

  “I can’t hurry up. Not with you standing there, watching over me.”

  “Try anything and I will kill you.” He steps forward and allows me to close the door. As soon as I lock it and sit back down, my pee is no longer being held hostage by my body. Instantly, I relax and finally pee.

  Once I’m out, I wash my hands and wait for the masked heavy to give me instructions. He opens the door quietly and waits for me to exit. Looking down the first hallway, I notice a door at the end. My eyes search it so I can store it for future reference. “Where does that lead?’ I ask, knowing I’m not going to get a straight answer.

  “You can try and run, but all the doors require fingerprint recognition.” He may not have given me an exact answer, but he has told me it’ll be extremely hard to get out of here.

  Heading back to the room in which I was being held, I walk around the expanse for a few seconds. He points to the chair and I roll my eyes. “Is restraining me necessary? It’s not like anyone’s in here with me.” He points again. “Fine,” I say as I stretch my back and take my seat. He cuffs my hands in front of me and leaves the room.

  A minute or two pass before the woman comes over the loud speaker. “How far into the future can you see?”

  I agreed to give them an answer for letting me pee. “I’m not entirely sure of the exact time. Maybe five or six hours.”

  “What are you capable of in the visions?”

  I shake my head at the camera. “Sorry, I said one question for allowing me to pee. You want me to answer another question, you need to answer one of mine.”

  “This isn’t how we work, Alexa,” the woman responds.

  “Then this is going to get nowhere for either of us.” I shrug my shoulders. “Unless, of course, you answer one of my questions.”

  The silence fills the room once more. But this time, I’m not so worried about it, because I’ve been to the bathroom. I know they want information from me, so hopefully they’ll talk. I could potentially be sitting here for hours, waiting this out. But if I give in, they’ll always be able to do what they want without me knowing anything about them.

  “What’s your question?”

  Crap, I wasn’t expecting that. Not so soon. I have so many questions, I have no idea where to start. “How many of us are there?”

  “About forty.”

  “Holy shit,” I say sinking down further into the seat. At least forty of us walking around with this ability. “Are they all my age?”

  “How exactly do you see the future?”

  Damn it, I set the terms. If they answer a question, I’ll answer one back. “I want the restraints to come off, and I want a face to face. I’m not talking like this any more.”

  It’s the only way I’m going to get an opportunity to touch someone and try to get honest answers.

  “Alexa.”

  “No! This isn’t working for either of us. Take it or leave it. These are my new terms. I’ll answer your questions, but I’ll do it face to face with no restraints.” Nervously, I wait for their reply. My stomach twists as I wait.

  It’s a long time before I hear the creak of the door. It opens, and I nearly fall off my chair.

  My eyes must be deceiving me, while my mind struggles to form any type of comprehensive thought.

  My heart pounds furiously as I watch the man walk in, drag out the chair opposite to me, and sit. My mouth dries and I’m completely speechless. How . . . what . . . huh?

  “Alexa.” He curtly nods his head, his mouth turning up into a smirk.

  “How . . . ?” I’m still unable to form a sentence. How on earth did he . . . I mean, what . . . ?

  “You weren’t expecting me?” A mocking sneer dances over his face. He knows damned well I had no idea he was involved.

  “I . . . um.” Shaking my head, I try to grasp what’s happening. “Why?” The expression in his eyes says all I need to know. “Oh,” I breathe out with understanding. “Money.”

  He nods his head, crosses his arms in front of his chest and raises his brows in confirmation. “That’s exactly right.”

  “Does Jude know, Ronan?”

  “He figured it out, but he’s of no concern of mine any longer.”

  Fear takes hold as a sudden feeling of impending doom washes over me. “Where’s Jude?” I ask, frightened to hear the answer.

  “I shot him.” His face is cold, and stoic. It’s as if he never cared.

  I lunge forward over the table, and grab onto his hands. I need to see for myself.

  I’m dragged into a vision of Ronan’s future, but I don’t want to see the future. I need to see the past. It’s something I’ve never done before, but if I’m capable of going into the future, I should be capable of rewinding it to see the past.

  I just need to concentrate.

  Ronan’s in an office, sitting down and talking with someone. Instantly, I recognize the voice of the woman who’s been talking to me over the speaker. She’s also the same woman who came to see me in the hospital with the high heels.

  But, for now, I need to get to Jude.

  Closing my eyes, I focus on Ronan. It’s as if I’m watching him in rewind. My mind is straining as I concentrate on rewinding time.

  But, I can’t make it work. I can’t rewind the vision to see the past. I can only see what’s happening in the future.

  “Is he dead?” the woman asks Ronan
.

  “He’s shot,” he confirms while inspecting his nails. Cocky asshole.

  She smiles at him, then looks down at paperwork on the desk. “You’ve done a good job. We’re all satisfied with your work.” Ronan clears his throat and crosses one leg over the other. “Is there a problem?” she asks.

  “Payment. I was told I’d be receiving it when I brought the girl in to you.”

  “I’m waiting for confirmation of the job.”

  “I shot him, Nick saw it with his own eyes.”

  “Nicholas hasn’t checked in yet. When he confirms the hit, I’ll authorize your payment.” Nick is involved too? Oh my God, I never stood a chance.

  Bastard. He’s supposed to be Jude’s head of security. He sold him out for money. My anger froths inside of me as I watch the smug look emanating from Ronan. I want to punch that stupid, pompous sneer off his face.

  “Then I’ll wait.” Ronan squares his shoulders and sinks back further into the office chair.

  She looks up from her paperwork, and gives him a curt nod. “As you wish.” She leaves his staring gaze, and continues with her work. A quick moment passes when she stops working, and glances up at him. “I have another job for you if you’re interested. This kid is of no use to us. Her ability is minimal, and not what we need.”

  I step forward and look at the papers on her desk. I may not be able to go back in time to save Jude, but I can sure as hell look at what she has to save the next person.

  “What’s it pay?”

  “The same.”

  “How old’s the girl?” He juts his chin forward indicating the job.

  “Thirteen. She hasn’t made an impact on anyone yet. Her parents will miss her, but they’ll learn to adapt.”

  Holy shit, how can this woman be so heartless? My own soul tears in two, and I’m praying Ronan doesn’t take the job. How could he betray Jude? How could he kill a child?

  “No fucking way, this one is thirteen. She’s the youngest one. You’re delusional if you think I’ll take the same as the others.”

  The others? My heart splits with what I’m hearing. How many has he killed?