“What? Are you insane? What about his family? Someone will eventually come looking for him.”
“Are you sure he had one? I’m guessing Alistair and Penelope would have done their research.”
“Yeah.” Harrison nodded. “I mean do we even know if his real name was Simeon.”
Gemma’s face drained of color. Her fingers rose to play with her lower lip, a sure sign she was chasing a memory. “That’s it. That’s what felt wrong.”
“What did?”
“His room. The certificates, the photos… he had the wrong name. Ryan…” she squeezed her eyes shut. “Ryan Carter. That was his real name.”
“Okay you two, time to head to a computer. Let’s find out all we can about this guy.” Reaching across the table, he handed Gemma a phone. “Call me as soon as you have the goods. We’ll make our decisions from there.”
For some reason, it felt like they were racing the clock. Screaming back to Harrison’s place, they bounded through the house and had the Internet engine searching before they’d spoken a word to each other.
“There’s quite a few Ryan Carter’s here, Gem.”
“The Oscar.” Gemma clicked her fingers.
“He won an Oscar?” Harrison was dubious.
“No, it was a small one… but the engraving… look just try adding actor to the search.”
A few keystrokes later and they found their way to IMDB, a huge Internet database listing every actor and actress in almost every film ever made.
“That’s him. Ryan Dwight Carter.” Harrison felt his stomach twist as he gazed at Simeon’s… Ryan’s confident smile.
“Scan down.” Gemma leaned over his shoulder to get a closer look at his résumé. “So he’s been an extra on a couple of soaps and one movie. No major roles by the looks of things.”
“And he hasn’t had any work for at least two years.” Harrison pointed to the dates.
“Go up to his biography.”
They both scanned the few paragraphs of information. From what it said, Ryan was twenty years old. He had never been to college and dropped out of school when he was sixteen. His parents had died in a car accident earlier that year.
“I wonder if he had any siblings.”
Harrison opened up a new page and spent a few minutes searching. Having a middle name helped in the process and they soon learned that Ryan was an only child. When his parents died, that was it as far as family was concerned.
“Man. Out of work, no family, he must have been practically living on the street.”
“That’s possibly why your parents went for him.”
“And probably why he jumped at the chance.” Gemma’s face creased with a frown, her eyelids fluttering to ward off the tears. “How could they do this to someone?”
“I’m sure they had no idea it would actually kill him.”
“Yeah, well they need to.” The fire in Gemma’s eyes hissed and seared.
Harrison placed a cooling hand on her knee and rubbed her thigh. “Come on, let’s call Gabe.”
Gemma found the number on the cell phone, but used Harrison’s home line to dial it. Propping the phone into its cradle they listened on speaker to Gabe’s greeting.
“Hey Gabe,” Harrison responded while keeping his eyes on the screen. “We found him… and sad to say, I don’t think anyone’s going to miss him.”
“Well, I guess that makes things a little easier for us.”
“How are we supposed to get rid of the body?”
“I feel sick.” Gemma covered her mouth and dropped her head between her knees. Harrison rubbed her back as he and Gabe discussed who was going to do what with efficient detachment.
“I’ll take a boat out tonight.”
“Do you want any help?” Harrison mentally crossed his fingers.
“No. I’ll be okay.”
Harrison released his breath.
“We better get our story straight too. Are we going with him heading back to LA early because of family reasons? People at school are going to want to know.”
“More lies!” Gemma sat up. “You’re going to make me live with more lies!”
“Sweetie…” Harrison reached for her hand.
“No! Don’t.” She jerked away from him and stood. “I can’t keep doing this! He’s dead! DEAD!” Her eyes were wild as she turned on him. “And you guys are sitting here talking about dumping his body in the ocean as if you were heading out for a late night fishing trip!”
“Lucia,” Gabe’s voice was steady. “It’s the only way for now. You know we can’t get the police involved.”
She closed her eyes and eventually nodded. Harrison remained where he was, watching her in silent agony.
“I’ll deal with the body. Just stay put and I’ll call you when I’m done.” Gabe said a swift goodbye.
With the caution of an animal tamer, Harrison rose from his seat and approached his girlfriend. She remained where she was, allowing him to wrap his arms around her. After a few stiff moments, Gemma relented and slid her arms around his waist. He ran his hand up her back and into her hair, softly gripping the back of her head.
“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered.
“Would you stop saying that?” She drew her body away from him. “How is this ever going to be okay?”
He shook his head and frowned.
“They need to know.” She moved out of his embrace and reached for his keys. “They need to know what they’ve done.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida – 2011AD
Harrison was gracious enough not to stop her, but he still didn’t let her drive. They rumbled towards Ponte Vedra Beach without saying a word. Gemma studied Harrison’s hands as they gripped the steering wheel. His whole body was wired to explode; she could only guess what he was thinking.
“It’ll be okay. I’m just going to talk to them.”
“If they lay one finger on you…”
“I won’t let them touch me.”
“You got that right. I’m not going to let them within a foot of you.”
She glanced at his steely expression and nibbled on her cheek.
Oh babe, you’re not going to like this.
“Actually, I need to go in alone.”
Harrison’s head jerked like a malfunctioning robot. He shot her a disbelieving glare before turning back to the road.
“I’m not letting you do that, Gem.”
“Babe,” Gemma swallowed, “I’m going in alone. I don’t want them to see you.”
Harrison pulled the car to the side of the road. They lurched to a stop and idled in fuming silence. Gemma decided to remain calm and wait for the explosion. Harrison’s knuckles went white as his hands wound around the steering wheel.
“I’m not taking my foot off this brake until you let me go in with you.”
Feeling mean, but determined, Gemma placed her fingers on the door handle. “Then I guess I’ll just have to walk.”
“Gem,” Harrison grabbed her wrist.
She turned to face him, but left her body angled for the door. Harrison’s eyes begged for her to relent, but she couldn’t.
“How can you expect me to stay in the car after what they did to you last time? I want to be there. I need to protect you.”
Gemma couldn’t keep a small smile from appearing.
“I’m not asking you to drop me at the gate and go. I’m just asking you to stay in the car when we get there. You can even leave it running. If I come bursting out the door then we have a quicker get away.” She placed her hand gently on his fingers. “You have to trust me. I won’t let them touch me again.”
His fingers remained tight.
“If it makes you feel better, I’ll leave my phone on so you can hear the conversation. That way if things go wrong, you can come in and help me.”
Very slowly his fingers began to relax. His gaze was still agonized when he released her, but he did consent with a stiff nod.
Gemma took her hand off the do
or as the car moved back into the flow of traffic. They didn’t say another word until the car was parked outside the Hart’s home and she had dialed Harrison’s number. He answered after one ring then gazed at her solemnly.
“Promise me you’ll be careful.”
Gemma ran her fingers down his cheek. “You have my word.”
With a light kiss, she got out of the car and walked down the driveway before she could change her mind.
Penelope and Alistair were sitting around the kitchen counter, sipping coffees and nibbling on muffins as if it were any other Saturday afternoon. She stepped into the doorway and watched them both jump with pleasure-filled surprise.
“Thank God you’re safe.” Alistair shook his head with a soft smile. He sounded so genuine, Gemma nearly believed him.
“Sweetie,” Penelope jumped from her seat and came to embrace her. “I knew you’d come home.”
“Stay where you are!”
Penelope froze in position, clearly astonished by Gemma’s coldness.
You two are unbelievable!
After a stony glare standoff, Penelope folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow, her standard pose for battle.
“We’re glad to see you’re safe, Gemma.” Alistair shone her a smile, obviously trying to defuse the tension; she wasn’t biting.
“In spite of you, I am. Now, what did you do to Simeon?”
She watched with disgust as both their eyes lit with triumph. Penelope’s battle pose diminished as she spun to give Alistair a quick wink.
“I take it you went back and saw his bedroom… ten years ago?”
“Something like that.”
“It worked. Alistair, it worked!” Penelope was nearly jumping with glee.
“Not quite,” Gemma’s voice was sharp enough to pop any bubble. “He’s dead.”
“What did you do to him?” Alistair rose from his seat, clearly annoyed.
“I didn’t do anything to him! His body wasn’t made to travel. He was just a normal human and should have stayed that way!”
“I must have the formula wrong.” Penelope tipped her head and frowned.
“It’s okay, honey.” Alistair stepped behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “That’s why we’re doing these tests.”
“Tests! We’re talking about people’s lives here! This business venture of yours is sick!”
“We’ll get it eventually.” Alistair ignored Gemma’s yelling and kissed his wife on the head.
“At least we don’t have to start from scratch.” Penelope shifted her adoring gaze from her husband to land a cold glare on Gemma. “Some more of your blood would be helpful. A decent sample this time.”
“You are not touching me again.”
Alistair approached her with unexpected speed. Gemma fled, but he grabbed the back of her shirt before she could make it to the front door. She let out a scream as he wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her off the ground.
“Take her to the room. I’ll get the needles ready.” Penelope clipped out of the kitchen.
Gemma threw her head back. Alistair dodged the blow and squeezed her with iron arms. She kicked and flailed, but her fight was fruitless as he carried her out of the kitchen towards the back end of the house.
Having lived more than two years in this home, she thought she knew every nook and cranny, but as Alistair hauled her into the laundry and opened a cupboard door, she realized she was wrong.
Her mother had never been territorial over a washing machine. It was much worse.
She let out a gasp as she was thrown into a small room. A single chair stood in the middle beneath a bright light. It looked like an interrogation room, but that wasn’t the scary part. The thing making Gemma’s muscles spasm with terror was the chair. It looked like an execution chair, with straps around the wrists and ankles. Next to the chair was a metal trolley layered with sterilized implements and along the wall were glass cupboards filled with vials and jars.
She saw her mother’s laptop open in the corner, on a desk piled high with paperwork.
Gemma jumped up to push past Alistair and get free. He slammed a fist into her stomach. She buckled over, gasping for air, as the man she used to call father grabbed a handful of her hair and hauled her towards the chair.
“No,” she managed and lurched away again.
He gripped her shoulders and threw her back. She landed in the chair with a plop and barely had time to react before his fist hit her square in the jaw. Her head swayed backwards and she winced against the pain.
Her limbs felt like spaghetti as they were strapped into the chair. As Alistair reached for her foot, he noticed the bandage on her ankle. Ripping it off, he stared at the wound, rubbing his thumb over the scab.
“It looks like you hacked it out with a knife.”
“I did.”
Gemma couldn’t tell whether he was livid or impressed. His expression seemed to be a mixture of both.
“It must have hurt,” he muttered.
“It made me free from you. It was worth every ounce of pain.” He dug his finger into her wound as he placed her foot into position and tightened the strap.
She drew in a sharp breath. "How did it work?"
Alistair eyed her for a moment, looking proud. "Penelope designed it. We made sure you had it inserted as soon as we got you. We needed to make sure it worked once your traveling cells activated."
"Traveling cells?"
"Yes, all time spirits have them. They are the cells in your blood that give you the ability to travel. During puberty they activate."
"And if they don't get activated?"
"They lie dormant in the body."
So that's what Gabe was hoping for me. How many years had she pined for that reality?
"It works like a remote... and I'm the control." He grinned, pulling the back of his shirt collar down to reveal a dark brown mark at the base of his neck. "The tentacles on the birthmark draw the cells towards it. The more pure a time spirit's blood is, the more cells they have. The concentration in your blood is the highest we've ever seen. You had the strength to charge whatever other birthmarks were linked to you... until you took it out. Such a waste."
"That's why you want my blood so bad."
"Smart girl," he mocked. "Yes, with you turning 18 and getting a whole new influx of fresh cells, you're a power house. You see, the gold dust is the most pure form of the cell, that's why we had to get those vials. Mixed with active cells in the blood stream..." he smiled, "the possibilities are endless. Simoen is proof of that."
"Simeon is dead!"
Alistair clicked his tongue. "She just has to get that formula right. Don't worry, she will."
"You're sick."
"No, Gemma, I'm a visionary." He looked like he actually believed it.
She fought off the tears, trying to find the calm and focus she’d need to get out of this situation. She couldn't let them have any more of her blood. She wouldn't be a part of this. Her eyes darted around the room. There was no point traveling anywhere… she’d just end up right back here.
Although would I still be strapped in the chair?
Alistair slapped her face. “Don’t even think about traveling. You’ll just end up right back here and I’ll be waiting to pounce on you.” His eyes glittered as he leaned towards her. “There’s no way out of this room, Gemma,” he whispered into her ear.
Cold dread seeped down her spine. She closed her eyes. The only person who could help her now was Harrison and if he tried, they would kill him.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida – 2011AD
Harrison was shaking as he ran onto the sand and headed for the back entrance of the house. Gemma’s scream was still ringing in his ears. He’d nearly dropped the phone when he heard it, and listening to her struggle as he tore out of the car was murder. But then her phone had lost reception and that’s what was making his limbs shiver.
He knew he couldn’t waltz in th
e front door so decided sneaking in the back would be best. He just hoped he could find her in time. He hated to think what they were doing to her. His imagination was not playing fair as he approached the beach access gate and climbed over it.
Landing in the garden with a soft thud, Harrison took a moment to catch his breath. He couldn’t go in there guns blazing.
You don’t even have a weapon, you idiot.
He needed something. As he crouched in the bushes, he made his mind slow down and work through some sort of strategy.
It was hard to think straight with fear pulsing through his brain. He shook his head.
Pull it together, Granger!
“A weapon. Let’s start with that.”
He scanned the ground around him and picked up a large stick. Holding it in the air he swung it then cursed. Alistair would break that in a second. He dropped it with another curse and then had an idea.
“The training room,” he whispered.
He crept closer to the house. If he could get into the training room, he could arm himself with some of the historic weapons… a sword or dagger might give him the advantage he needed. He knew both Mr. and Mrs. Hart could pummel him in a heartbeat, but if he had a weapon it might take them just a little longer… and that might give Gemma the chance she needed to escape.
His breathing was punchy as he walked past the pool and sidled up to the house. He leaned against the exterior and listened for noises inside. He couldn’t hear a sound. Closing his eyes, he touched the handle, hoping the whole house was disarmed. The thought that he would probably be dead within the hour flickered through his brain as he turned the handle, but he forced it aside with a slow breath. There was no way he was leaving Gemma.
Opening the door a crack, he snuck inside and crouched below the pool table. He listened for sounds again, but felt he was alone. Scurrying around the furniture, he made a beeline for the closet and threw himself inside.
He turned and looked at the keypad on the training room door and prayed he could dredge up the number he saw Gemma type in the one time she brought him here. He pictured her digits on the buttons and tried to copy what he remembered.
Pure Blood (Time Spirit Trilogy, #3) Page 16