His lip curled on his next words, his voice dripping bitter venom. “But then you came along and ruined everything.” His hands tightened on the wheel, knuckles gleaming white.
“When Adriane disappeared, she left behind letters accusing several families—including mine—of colluding with Osterraven in his deceit. We hadn’t, but they believed that malignant bitch. The pending contract was dissolved and Wyler Symms closed their doors to us. So did Osterraven and every other upper-tier family. We fell to the gutter of society. Few would talk to us; fewer would share their line genes with us. Not at the risk of being ostracized.
“Our only choice was to search for you and Adriane and bring you both back. We hoped it would demonstrate we’d had no part in the whole mess. Years passed and no one could pick up her trail. Then five years ago, I found her. I couldn’t believe she’d totally cut herself off from the magical world. I decided that the best place for her to remain hidden while still obtaining information was the Proclamation Server. I was right. She’d been logging in every so often since she disappeared. Nobody monitors logins. From there, it was just a matter of tracking her. Thank God for modern technology.”
He fell silent for a few minutes as he negotiated the downtown traffic. His story hadn’t told me anything about what he was up to, but whatever it was, he’d been planning it for years. How long? I tried to remember when we first met. Aunty Mommy had introduced us at some sort of charity event. Apparently she hadn’t recognized a man from the family she’d destroyed—if Garrett’s story was true, which I thought was likely. He had no reason to lie, and the Wicked Bitch reveled in being vindictive. That had been when I was just starting Effortless Estates.
“My grandfather believed that bringing you back would restore our position in society. I knew better. Your line families would never let it be known they were wrong. I wanted to make the Wyler Symms and Osterraven families pay. I had originally planned to kill your aunt and then you, and through you, your parents. I even put a curse on the jewelry I gave to you after I killed your aunt. I don’t know how you escaped it. The curse was quite potent.”
He’d cursed me? Not the Wicked Bitch? If I could have, I’d have hammered him in the balls for that. And another time for kidnapping me. Who was I kidding? I wouldn’t have stopped there. I wanted to hang him up and use his ball sack for a punching bag.
“I planned to kill you one night at the shop, but you weren’t there. I’m afraid I lost my temper. That’s when I realized that killing you would be a waste of first-tier bloodlines. I should be breeding you. Not just me—all the males in my family. Every year you could produce twins or triplets. In just ten years, we could have twenty or thirty children, all bearing Wyler Symms–Osterraven DNA. In less than thirty years, we’d have the blood talents to wedge our way back into the ruling tier. No one could stop us.”
Thirty children? Who the fuck was he kidding? But if he kept me helpless like this, how would I object? How could I even hope to stop him?
Fear thundered through my veins like nothing I’d ever felt before. Even the Wicked Bitch hadn’t caused such terror as this. With her, I’d still been me. I’d still had a life. But with Garrett, I’d be nothing more than a uterus. I’d be kept incapacitated, unable to fight or run. I couldn’t pull up any magic either. I was truly helpless with no chance at freedom or rescue in sight.
Panic overwhelmed me. For a few minutes, my vision went black as my blood pressure hiked up off the charts. I started to pant as I fought against the weight of my fear. It noosed my throat and squeezed my heart. Finally I sort of passed out. Everything around me moved in and out of focus. Garrett’s voice was far away and tinny, as if he spoke from the bottom of a deep hole.
I came out of the fog slowly. He was still talking. He wanted to brag, I realized. He wanted me to know how clever he’d been.
“...brilliant stroke of genius. Don’t you think? I’m betting they’ll be here before the end of the day. I figure they fueled their jets the second my e-mail came through about you. Now I won’t have to kill you to get at them. I’ve already set the trap. I have to just sit back and wait for them to walk in.”
He giggled merrily. It was so out of character for the elegant, urbane man I thought I’d known. He was giddy with triumph. “I can’t wait to see their faces.” He glanced toward me again. “Well, their eyes, anyhow. The mesmer dust immobilizes most muscles.” He shrugged. “I suppose I can’t have everything. At least they’ll know I’m the one killing them. I’m the one who outwitted them. I’m the one getting the last laugh. I was so disappointed I had to get your aunt from a distance. She didn’t know I’d killed her. It’s really such a shame.” He shook his head but then his mood brightened.
“After I take care of them, you and I will go start making babies. I have to tell you, I’m looking forward to it. I’ve always found you quite attractive.”
He scowled at me. “I saw you kissing Matrovani in the parking lot. You didn’t fuck him, did you? Well, no matter. I can abort the pregnancy for you and make sure my seed takes. The first time, anyhow. The second time I’ll offer you to my Uncle Thomas. I think children with him will have a lot of potential.”
Everything he said horrified me, and yet I could do nothing. I again tried to summon magic, but nothing happened. My body was nothing more than a wet rag.
I was startled when he headed toward Aunty Mommy’s estate. Hope burst like a star in my chest. The gargoyles! They could help me if I could make them aware I needed help. Or Mason. He could come out of the secret room at any moment. He’d sent away house staff and grounds crew last night. For how long?
Garrett seemed entirely too confident as he pulled in. He clicked open the garage door and pulled inside. So much for the gargoyles even seeing me.
He carried me inside the house. There was no sign of any staff. He took me into a small sitting room where Aunty Mommy had liked to serve tea when she had visitors. He sat me in an armchair and propped me upright with the help of throw pillows. I felt like a life-sized doll. What little hope I had of rescue drained when I saw Mason lying opposite on the couch, his legs and arms bound. His stared, unblinking and unmoving.
Garrett pulled him upright so we could look at each other. I could see horror flicker in Mason’s eyes, and fear. Or maybe that was just a reflection of mine.
“There now,” Garrett said. “We’re all ready for company. Let’s hope they arrive soon. I’d like to get this party started.”
Time drifted slowly past. Garrett fiddled and paced, walking in and out of the room impatiently. He kept checking his watch and then started playing with his phone. Every so often, he’d stand by the window facing the front of the house and just stare out at the driveway.
I was fast arriving at one conclusion: the world of magic and these ruling families was cancerous. It produced psychopaths. I wanted nothing to do with it. Not that Garrett planned to give me a choice.
Fuck him. I was going to find a way out of this if it killed me. I’d rather it did than let him turn me into a brood mare.
About a half hour into waiting, Garrett began to chatter again. He seemed almost manic and so very different from the man I’d come to know over the years. Only I’d never known him. I’d been completely conned. I wondered if any part of the man he’d showed me was real.
“You know, I haven’t shown you my goodies,” he said to us. He picked up a leather duffel bag from behind the door and set it on the coffee table. One by one, he began pulling out weapons. The first was a combat knife. He held it up, turning it to watch the light flashing across the blade.
“I haven’t decided how to kill everyone yet,” he said. “With this, I could slice an artery or throat, or go right for the heart. I’ve never stabbed anyone, though, and I’m not sure if it’s the best option.”
Next he pulled out an ice pick. It was longer and more heavy duty than any I’d seen. “This is used for chipping ice on a river or lake so people can ice fish. I like that it’s smaller than the knife
. More elegant. I wonder if it would be easier to stab into the heart. Or I read a mystery one time where the murderer shoved an ice pick through the victim’s ear. There wouldn’t be a lot of blood that way. That’s always a positive.”
Next came a gun. “Shooting’s probably the easiest method. It’s a little impersonal, though. I think I might like to strike a killing blow myself.”
He set the gun beside the other two weapons and drew out several jars, each stoppered with a large cork covered in different-colored melted wax—green, pink, and yellow.
“I really like the idea of a good poison. Then it’s still a personal kill and the target dies painfully, which is perfect justice. I brought several kinds.” He held up the green one. “This is tetrodotoxin made from puffer fish. It’s a slower death, depending on dosage. I think I might enjoy watching that.” He set it down and picked up the pink jar.
“Now this one is good old cyanide, the workhorse of poisons. It’s painful but fairly quick. This last one is wood alcohol. It works fast and is also painful.” He set the yellow jar next to the others and considered all his weapons.
“I just don’t know. I considered strangulation, but that’s just so crude. Like beating someone over the head. No style.”
As I listened, it began to sink in that he was really going to go through with his plans to kill people and make me his incubator. I guess I hadn’t really believed it. It was too James Bond villain to be believable. Only it wasn’t. The certainty sank down into my heart and jabbed me full of terror. I was helpless. Mason was helpless. Anybody who might rescue us would end up just as helpless. We were so screwed.
It was close to another hour later when Garrett perked up. “They’re here,” he sang.
Disappointment crushed his excitement a moment later. “Oh, it’s just that bastard Matrovani. He’s got your girlfriends with him. That’s unfortunate.” He shook his head. “It can’t be helped. I can’t leave witnesses.”
My panic and terror shot up like Old Faithful as Garrett grabbed the handgun and scurried out of the room. On some level, my brain put together the fact that he didn’t need to feel the personal kill with the girls and Damon. A gun would suit him fine. Once they were hit with the dust, he could just put the barrel against their heads and they’d be gone.
Thought abandoned me and I exploded into smoke. The mesmer dust hung in the air like tiny black stars. As I had with the curse, I knocked the particles away from me. They sifted onto the woven silk rug.
I bolted after Garrett. I didn’t solidify. I couldn’t go through the wall, so I flowed out the door and streaked along the corridor toward the front vestibule. I reached it just as Garrett did. He’d stopped outside some kind of spell circle he’d drawn along the outer edge of the entryway. It bisected the threshold between where he’d stopped and the doorway. He took a glass ball full of mesmer dust out of his pocket, cocking his arm up to smash it inside the circle.
I could hear voices on the other side of the door. The handle turned and the door thrust open. Damon and the girls rushed inside. The symbols of the spell flared, and Garrett’s arm thrust downward, the glass ball rushing to smash against the floor.
In rapid-fire thoughts, I understood immediately that the spell would contain the dust to keep Garrett from falling under its power. I also understood that that’s all it would do.
I lashed out with a tentacle of magic and snatched the ball before it could hit the floor. In the same moment, I slammed Garrett against the wall. I smashed him against it three times, putting body-shaped impressions into the sheetrock. He cried out the first time, and by the third, he’d slumped, his eyes closing. Blood ran down his neck from where his scalp had split.
I dropped him to the floor and then carefully settled the glass ball into Damon’s hand. All at once the desperation left, and I coalesced into flesh. I fell to the floor, landing facedown, my head thumping on the polished marble. Pain exploded in my forehead, cheek, and nose. Blood streamed out my nostrils as I fought to catch my breath. It had been entirely knocked out of me.
Hands grabbed me and pulled me over to sit me up. The girls gabbled words I couldn’t make sense of. My head spun from the shock of hitting the floor. I was having a tough time making myself focus.
Damon picked me up and carried me to a nearby couch and laid me down. He disappeared and Jen stroked the hair out of my face.
“Are you okay? Beck, come on, talk to us.”
I grabbed her hand and held it tight. “Garrett was going to kill you.”
Silence. I started wriggling to sit up, and then Stacey was there with some ice wrapped in a dishtowel. Lorraine pressed a damp towel against my nose.
“We need to go to the emergency room,” she said. “She might have broken her cheek bone or the orbital bone. Her nose is definitely broken.”
I groaned.
“She said that Garrett was trying to kill us,” Jen said in a taut voice.
“Garrett? But he’s always so sweet,” Stacey said.
“So’s antifreeze but drinking it will kill you,” Lorraine said, sounding shaken.
“Has a gun,” I managed. “Mason needs help too.”
“Damon’s making sure Garrett’s not going to be a problem,” Stacey said. “He’s out cold. You can do the poltergeist thing?”
I choked out a laugh. I loved that she was always curious and rarely fazed by much of anything. “Not on purpose.”
I heard Damon’s quick, heavy footsteps. He leaned above the others, his face black with anger and worry.
“Are you okay? What’s the matter with Mason?”
I translated that to mean: What did Garrett do to you, and are you both going to die?
“That glass ball has this stuff Garrett called mesmer dust. He’s a Sandrini,” I said, going off on a short tangent trip.
At that name, Damon swore something in what sounded like Italian. I didn’t know he spoke another language. It sounded so pretty, even when I was pretty sure the words themselves were vile.
“It paralyzes you. You can hear but not move.”
“How long did it take to wear off?” Damon asked.
“It didn’t. I changed and was able to sweep it out of me.”
“She needs to get to the hospital,” Lorraine told Damon firmly. “Now.”
He hesitated then I heard the chink of keys as he passed them to her. “I’d better stay here. See what else the bastard might have done.”
“He said someone was coming. He wanted to kill them. Revenge. I think it might be my parents.” In fact, I was sure of it. Who else would come running?
The pain was starting to overcome the shock, and my face was throbbing. My whole head pounded in time with the pulsing throb.
“Can you help Mason?” I asked as the girls helped me to my feet. I swayed and Jen and Stacey braced me, pulling my arms over their shoulders. I could see out of only my right eye. My left had swelled shut. My front teeth felt odd. I ran my tongue along them and discovered a ragged edge. I’d chipped it. Yippee. When I fell, I went all out.
The rest of me ached too. I’d pretty much belly flopped like a rag doll onto the marble floor from a good five feet above. My ribs hurt every time I breathed. I wondered if I’d cracked them. I wouldn’t put it past me.
“Will Mason be all right?” I asked Damon.
“Yes.”
I wasn’t sure he wasn’t lying to make me feel better. The girls started to maneuver me out of the house. I staggered along, finding more and more aches and pains with every step.
“Call me,” Damon said. “I’ll get to the hospital as soon as I can.”
“You got it, Sunshine,” Jen said. “Are you going to call the cops?”
“He killed the Wicked Bitch,” I said and then made a whimpering sound as I bit my tongue. Talk about adding insult to injury.
They loaded me up into the truck. Apparently they’d all driven together. Ajax made little snuffling noises as I collapsed across the backseat. He sat on the floor and licked my
hands and arms. I wanted to tell him to stop, but he seemed to need to do it, so I didn’t object.
Lorraine drove like a bat out of hell, and we got there in less than twenty minutes. I was surprised we weren’t being chased by a dozen cops with all the laws she had to have broken.
I recognized a few of the ER staff as they took me inside. It must’ve been a slow day because they got me back into a cubicle in just ten minutes. The doctor who’d treated me the first time came in and started examining me.
“Did you take another fall in the river, Miss Wyatt?” he asked dryly.
“Business client kidnapped me and my uncle,” I said, pleased by the startled look on his face. He’d probably thought I was getting beaten by my boyfriend or something and that I was going to protect him.
“Did you call the police?” he asked.
“Boyfriend was going to. Stayed to talk to them.”
“How did you get these injuries?”
I couldn’t tell him the truth, so I went for something close. “Tried to run away. He tackled me. Marble floors.”
I was beginning to shiver. Reaction setting in. Shock or something. My whole face ached and talking was getting to be really painful. The doc seemed to notice and stopped asking questions beyond, “Does this hurt? How about here? On a scale of one to ten, ten being unbearable …?”
I whined about being cold, and they covered me with blankets that had come out of a toaster oven. Then they cleaned me up and shoved me into a CT doughnut. Neither my eye socket nor cheek had broken. Just my nose. After that, I got chest X-rays.
“Your nasal septum seems to be fine, but all the same, you’ll want to follow up with an ENT within a day or two. You don’t want to have to break your nose again to fix it, so don’t wait more than a week. Ten days and I promise you there will be breaking,” the doc told me sternly after the tests were all completed.
“Yessir,” I said.
“Your ribs don’t appear to be fractured, but you may have separated or torn the cartilage. Not much to do about that but ice, rest, and take it easy on yourself for the next few weeks. It would be a good idea to arrange an MRI to see the extent of any damage. I’ll give you a referral. I’ll send you home with something to take care of the pain for the first week. After that, over-the-counter pain medications should work just fine.”
Putting the Fun in Funeral Page 30