In retrospect, he probably should have ordered Nobe to kill the insider. Still, right now he had more pressing worries.
He repressed his anger, forced calm. Besides, none of his concerns took into consideration his ace in the hole. In a worst-case scenario, Michael possessed a bargaining chip that provided immense leverage.
He got out of the SUV and opened the back. Jessie, still unconscious, lay nestled beneath a blanket in the cargo area. To prevent her from waking during the ride and smothering him with one of her fascinating psychic weapons, he’d injected her with a version of the drug Nobe had used during the kidnappings of Blue and Green. Even if she came to from that blow to the head, she’d be too unfocused to pose a threat.
Michael picked her up, blanket and all, and threw her over his shoulder. He carried her around to the chateau’s side entrance. If Trish happened to wake, she’d be less likely to hear him entering that way.
He made it to the basement lab without incident. Locking the door he laid the naked Jessie on the floor and uncurled the blanket.
Damn, she was beautiful. He’d waited nearly a decade to see Princess like this. He’d have to keep her drugged when they eventually fucked. But he’d done that enough times with women.
He opened the satchel hanging from his belt and removed the canister. Placing it on his desk, he unlatched the spherical halves and peeled back the top. There it was in all its glory.
The quiver stone.
What powers would come to him with a second infusion? Would he be able to transmit his physical self rather than just a shadow? Would the lethal abilities of Princess become part of his repertoire? Perhaps he’d be blessed with both, as well as other incredible faculties yet to be imagined.
His concerns over everything that had gone wrong seemed to melt away. He’d done what he’d set out to do. The prize was his. Now it was time to enjoy the fruits of his success.
How long would an infusion take? What he’d learned from the insider indicated that transference occurred within a mere ten seconds or so of skin contact.
But whereas the infusion itself might be near-instantaneous, the amount of time it would take for the effects to take hold remained a question mark. Would it happen immediately? Or take hours, days or weeks, or perhaps even longer?
Michael smiled. He was pretty sure the powers would come to him relatively fast. They were just waiting for the proper impetus to bring them to life: himself.
It’s my destiny.
He picked up the stone and clutched it between his palms. He’d known it was unnaturally light but the absence of solidity still proved surprising. Quiver felt like a balloon that might float away should he release his grip.
He tightened his fingers around the stone and squeezed, imagining a godlike future.
SIXTY-EIGHT
Aiden had plugged the directions provided by the pilot into the Jeep’s GPS and had been guided toward the chateau without incident. But it had taken him longer than anticipated hiking the five miles from the downed helicopter back to the Jeep, probably because of being more fatigued than when the day had begun. It was dark by the time he reached his destination.
Half a mile out on the winding private lane, he inched the vehicle up the final section with the headlights off. He had to strain to see much farther than a few feet beyond the Jeep’s hood.
The outlines of a rectangular building loomed before him in the darkness: a six-bay garage. Parking behind it, he armed himself with the machine gun and pistol, and a flashlight from the glove compartment.
The night had brought a chill. He tightened the collar of his jacket and peeked around the corner at the stilted structure on the terrace above. An imperious silhouette, it seemed to hover against one of the richest starfields he’d ever seen.
Looking up at those thousands of stellar furnaces induced a sense of awe, momentarily sidetracking him from his purpose. Memories of Dad taking him on a camping trip surfaced. Deep in northern New Hampshire’s White Mountains, they’d spent several evenings lying on their backs in a clearing, staring up at skies blessed with a similar plenitude of stars. On subsequent nights, he’d dreamed of rocketing out there to explore that endless void.
He recalled that it was the same trip in which Blackie Redstone entered family lore. Dad’s subsequent adoption of that phrase to warn him against wild or foolish behavior now invoked a certain irony.
You set me on this path, he longed to tell his father. Your letter was the catalyst. The idea brought no bitterness, only a renewed sense of loss that his father was gone.
He refocused concentration and lowered his gaze to the chateau. A lone SUV was parked in front. Presumably it was Michael’s. His nemesis had gotten a good headstart and almost certainly would have arrived more than an hour ago. Most likely, he’d already infused himself with the quiver. Would Aiden be facing a man with newfound superpowers?
It didn’t matter. His first priority was rescuing Jessie. The bigger questions, the ones fundamental to his existence, would have to wait.
There were no interior or exterior lights on but that didn’t mean Aiden hadn’t been spotted. Ground sensors and hidden cameras might be covering the area.
Keeping the flashlight off, he dashed along the shadowy lane between chateau and garage and trotted up the wooden staircase onto the lower porch. Flattening himself against the wall between two windows, he froze, alert for any signs he’d been seen or heard. But the chateau maintained its hushed presence.
He checked the front door and curtained windows. Locked. Stickers in the corners of the panes warned that the property was protected by a security system. He couldn’t spot any surveillance cameras but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
No outside stairs led up to the second-floor balcony. That raised the possibility that whoever installed the security system hadn’t bothered protecting the less accessible upstairs windows.
Aiden studied the posts supporting the balcony. They featured decorative indentations matching the style of the railing. Footholds? He slung the machine gun on his back, selected a corner stilt and began climbing. The ascent was trickier than anticipated. Halfway up he missed planting a toe on one of the notches and almost fell. But he recovered, made it to the top and swung himself over the railing.
He was disappointed to realize the second-floor windows were also alarmed. However, the curtains weren’t drawn. He shined the flashlight through the first set of quartered panes, revealing an empty bedroom.
The second window also looked into a bedroom. This one was occupied.
The lights were out. A petite woman with curly blond hair sat on the edge of the bed with her back to the window. Her head was lowered and she was tightly clutching a handbag. Aiden had the impression she was preparing to leave.
She suddenly became aware of his flashlight beam on the far wall. Spinning around, she leapt to her feet, her face a mask of terror.
“No, it’s OK,” he whispered, holding up his hands in a sign of surrender, hoping against hope she could read his lips and his intentions. “I won’t hurt you.”
She just stood there, staring at him in fear. Was she Michael’s lover? If so, at any moment she might shout for him. If she did, Aiden was ready. He’d shoot out the window and storm inside.
Interminable seconds passed as they gazed at one another through the glass. Gradually, her expression changed. Fear morphed into something approximating curiosity.
Aiden was encouraged. I need your help, he mouthed, pointing toward the balcony door. Let me in.
She nodded and slipped out of the room. Either she’d carry out his request or use the opportunity to get out of the line of sight of his weapon and summon help. He inched toward the door, gripped the machine gun tighter and prepared for the worst.
An LED at the side of the portal blinked from red to green as she disabled the security sensors. The door opened. The woman took a wary step back into a dark hallway.
“It’s all right,” he whispered, lowering the bar
rel. “Is Michael here?”
She nodded.
“Is he alone?”
Fear arced across her face. An avalanche of words tumbled out of her.
“I think he went back into the basement. He got here about two hours ago. I was watching from the window and he was carrying a woman wrapped in a blanket, and I couldn’t tell whether she was dead or alive, and I heard the door to the basement open, and I’m sure that’s where he took her. I should never have come. I should have stayed in LA like my friends told me too but I didn’t listen, even after I’d heard the Maisey Latorsky stories, about her never being seen again after he brought her up here. I wanted to call for help but I can’t get a signal on my cell phone and you need a special code to use the landline, and he never gave me the code. I wanted to run away but the garage is locked and I was afraid he’d come after me if I was on foot and–”
“Whoa, slow down,” Aiden urged. He slipped into the hallway and closed the door behind him. “I’m here to help. What’s your name?”
“Trish Belmont.”
“Trish, you said Michael went back into the basement? Was he somewhere else first?”
“A few minutes after he first got here he went out again. I saw him walking toward the garage but it was too dark and I lost sight of him. I didn’t hear an engine start but he has electric cars and ATVs down there, so he might have driven one of those. He was gone a long time, at least an hour and three-quarters. He just got back maybe ten minutes ago. I was so scared I didn’t know what to do. I thought he might come for me next.”
“How do you get to the basement?”
“The stairs are at the back, just before you reach the kitchen. First door on the right.”
“Is there another way in or out?”
“I don’t know. I was never down there.”
Aiden was about to instruct her to return to her room and lock herself in when he had second thoughts. If things didn’t go well, such advice could sign her death warrant. She didn’t look capable of a believable poker face. If Michael suspected she’d let Aiden in…
He dug out the fob and handed it to her. “I’m parked behind the garage. Take the Jeep and get as far away from here as you can.”
He motioned for her to follow him down to the first floor. The curving staircase was carpeted and they moved with the stealth of mice. The mahogany railing had golden LEDs inset along its lower edge to function as nightlights. They provided just enough illumination to forego the need for the flashlight.
At the bottom, Trish pointed to the hallway leading to the kitchen. He guided her in the opposite direction to the front door. Inset into the adjacent wall was a control panel for the alarm system.
“He gave me the code,” she whispered, reaching for the panel.
“No, wait,” Aiden said, grabbing her hand. “I have a better idea. Leave the system armed.”
She looked confused. “But it’ll go off when I open the door.”
“I know. So make sure you run like hell to that Jeep. Drive away as fast as you can.”
“Maybe you should come with me.” She sounded genuinely concerned for his safety.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Thank you for doing this,” she said, giving him a crushing hug.
The embrace surprised him. He’d spent too many recent days under duress, caught up in derangement and violence. The last time he’d experienced human touch unfettered by hidden agendas was when he’d comforted Leah after her nightmare. That had been nearly a week ago. It seemed like forever.
He found himself hugging Trish back with an almost desperate urgency. It took effort to pull away from her.
“Count to twenty,” he instructed. “Then open the door and go.”
She nodded. Aiden tiptoed toward the back of the chateau. The door to the basement was closed. He went past it into the kitchen and crouched in an alcove beside the refrigerator. It provided a good view of the door. When Michael appeared, Aiden would have him in his sights… providing he didn’t instead use a shadow to scope things out. If that occurred, Aiden would have to adjust his plan. Adjust it how he couldn’t exactly say.
Even though he was ready, the alarm startled him. The pulsing siren was louder than anticipated. He realized it would drown out any footsteps coming from below.
He waited, finger near the trigger. If Michael bore a weapon he’d have to shoot first, gun him down. He’d done it before with the merc, Vesely.
And my first shot missed.
He quelled such negative thoughts. This time his aim would be perfect.
Half a minute passed. The door remained closed.
Something’s wrong.
The alarm stopped. The only sound was a lethargic hum oozing from the fridge.
Aiden couldn’t just stay here in the kitchen. He crept from his hiding place, still wary of the door opening and Michael lunging out. Dinner plates visible through a glass-fronted cabinet gave him an idea. He took down a stack of plates and set them on the floor in front of the basement door. Opening it would knock them over and serve as an alert.
Easing past the portal, he froze at the sound of a vehicle heading away from the chateau. It must be Trish. He was relieved she’d gotten away.
He waited until the engine sounds faded before moving again. The fridge compressor shut off. The chateau was again as silent as a tomb.
He reached the main hallway. The front door remained wide open. Someone must have deactivated the alarm, either from these controls or another one. The basement probably had a panel.
But if Michael had silenced the alarm, where was he? Waiting for Aiden to venture down into the basement?
He had no intention of doing that. The more he considered it, the more he doubted Michael would just hide down there. Red was too much of an aggressor. He’d go on the offensive.
The logical conclusion was that the basement had another egress, probably an exterior one. That meant Michael had either come back into the chateau through the open front door and was hiding somewhere inside, or had concealed himself outside, waiting for Aiden to show himself.
There was a variant possibility. He might have taken one of the vehicles and raced off in pursuit of Trish. After all, her abrupt departure would be cause for concern.
Aiden rethought his strategy. If Michael indeed had left the basement, Jessie must still be down there. Rescuing her remained the priority.
He retreated toward the kitchen, sweeping his gaze front and back, alert for the slightest movement. He carefully moved the plates away from the door.
There was an odd whirring noise. It lasted only a few seconds.
As best he could determine, it came from upstairs. He inched his way back to the main staircase. Along with ambient starlight through the open front door and the LEDs in the railing, there was enough illumination to outline the steps. But the landing above remained a puddle of darkness.
Had the sound been accidental, something inconsequential like a thermostat tripping a heater? Or had Michael caused it deliberately in an attempt to lure him up there?
Whatever the case, Aiden was through being cautious. Keats’ parting words echoed. Finish it.
Treading stealthily, he headed up the steps. Halfway there, he paused. The whirring noise returned, again for only an instant. It sounded vaguely familiar yet didn’t last long enough to identify a source. But it definitely came from the second floor.
He continued the climb until he was just below the landing. Drawing a deep breath, he raced up the final few steps, ready to fire.
The hallway was bathed in shadows but clearly deserted. Doors on both sides were closed. A light switch on the wall beckoned. Aiden decided it was time for proper illumination.
He flicked the switch. Nothing happened. The junction box for the lighting was likely in the basement. Had Michael thrown a circuit breaker to keep them in the dark?
The whirring noise returned. This time it didn’t end but grew steadily louder. He identified the sound at the same moment
he spotted its source.
A drone, a toy of some kind with a grinning monster head. It leaped up from the shadows at the far end of the hallway and flew straight at him.
He swung the machine gun to bat it away. He missed. The toy and its quartet of spinning plastic blades grazed his shoulder as it flew past. Startled, Aiden lunged sideways.
The move saved his life. A shotgun blast ripped into the ceiling above, showering him with plaster.
The shot came from below. He whirled and fired a three-round burst into the darkness at the bottom of the stairs. He glimpsed a figure ducking into a room off the main hallway.
He rushed down the steps, firing more bursts toward the shadowy doorway. Halfway down, he tripped over the drone, which must have been taken out by the shotgun blast. He tried to regain his balance but failed. Head over heels, Aiden tumbled the rest of the way down the staircase.
SIXTY-NINE
Aiden landed hard on his back. Somehow he’d held onto the machine gun. Rolling onto his side he started to rise.
A boot heel slammed into his guts, knocking the wind out of him and putting him flat on his back again. A hand snatched the weapon from his grasp.
A flashlight beam hit his face, momentarily blinding him. When his eyes adjusted, Michael stood over him. The flashlight was attached to the shotgun. It was pointed at Aiden’s midsection.
“Aiden Manchester, quiver kid extraordinaire,” his captor hissed, smug amusement playing on his face. “I just can’t seem to be rid of you.”
Michael took a step backward. Aiden sensed he was getting ready to pull the trigger and didn’t want to be hit with backspray, namely Aiden’s bloody entrails.
Aiden’s only chance was manifesting another cleaving. But what had happened on the train had been subconscious. He had no idea how to create a hole into another universe or dimension by willpower.
Maybe like a guardian angel, a cleaving would magically appear the instant Michael pulled the trigger, the possibility of Aiden’s death the impetus for its creation. There didn’t seem to be much else to hope for. The pistol was tucked in his jacket pocket. But with the shotgun pointed at him, there was no chance to reach it on the sly.
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