Out of Sight

by Stella Cameron

  “Enjoy… You hungry or somethin’? I wanna get paid and get away.”

  “Why shouldn’t we have some fun with the lovely lady before we hand her over?” Marcus said.

  The other guy made an explosive noise. “Straight there, straight back and make sure you don’t hurt her. Those were the instructions.”

  “We’re not going to hurt her, just make her happy.”

  “Sure. And when she tells them what happened, what then?”

  Marcus laughed, not a pretty sound. “There was a big struggle and she got banged up—trying to escape. You saw how bad they want her. They won’t be listening to her, anyway. The man wants something from her and he doesn’t care about any complaints she could have.”

  Something thumped against the rear of the vehicle and it swung.

  “Shit,” the passenger said. “Watch where you’re driving. All we need is to blow a tire.”

  “You will be in on my plan?” Marcus said. “Up to you. If you just wanna get your jollies from the show it’s okay with me.”

  Poppy couldn’t settle her mind. Terror messed with every thought she had. Terror and revulsion.

  “Damn, you hit something else.”

  It was as if the rear of whatever they were in dropped down, dragged, then continued on.

  “I’ll stop,” Marcus said. “You get out and check.”

  “Nothing doing.”

  “Do as you’re told, unless you’re tired of living.”

  “Don’t threaten me. They want both back, remember? They’re not stupid, they want us watching each other and doing what the big man wants done. Nothing more, nothing less. Let’s get her where she needs to be.”

  “Damn you,” Marcus growled. “It isn’t every day you get a chance at one like her.”

  But he kept driving and Poppy dared to hope he wouldn’t stop after all.

  The vehicle slowed down.

  “Now what?” the passenger said.

  “I’m just going to check her over and make sure she’s okay.”

  “Shit,” the other man said again and with feeling. “Too bad you can’t keep it in your pants.”

  “Shut up and remember I’ve got the gun and the keys.” Marcus swerved to the right over bumpy ground and slammed on the brakes. In minutes his door opened and Poppy heard more noises. Then he was on her, his hands all over her, tearing open the front of her dress, his rough fingers scraping up her thighs.

  He knelt behind her and used her torn dress to start yanking her onto her back. And Poppy ground the knuckles of both hands into his calf, the only part of his legs she could reach. She twisted and shoved as hard as she could. If nothing else, his muscle wouldn’t feel so good afterward.

  Marcus grunted. He released her and squirmed around, moaning.

  The vehicle started to rock, to bounce up and down until Poppy heard something snap.

  “Get yourself up here,” the second man yelled. “This thing’s falling apart on us.”

  Marcus rolled away from Poppy and she could feel him lying beside her, breathing hard and moaning.

  “What the fuck’s the matter with you?” the second man said.

  “Get yourself in the driver’s seat.” Marcus’s voice came in bursts. “And keep your mouth shut.”

  Again a door opened and the springs moved as Marcus got out. Poppy heard him cry out and curse. Then there was weight on the front of the vehicle again as he must have got in, or dragged himself in.

  She realized her mouth was open with shock and closed it. “Numb knuckles” had done it. Those brothers of hers had put her off from using a lifesaving skill and they were going to hear about it.

  “What’s the matter with you?” the man who was driving asked Marcus.

  “Leg gave out on me. Cramp or something. Get where we’re going and not a word about any of this.”

  Poppy heard keys change hands.

  “You got it,” the man said, sounding relieved.

  They drove on, a scraping sound following them. “You sure we shouldn’t get back there and check this thing?” the new driver said. “May only be the exhaust crapped out on us, but—”

  “We’re almost there,” Marcus said, gasping. “Let’s do this and get the hell out of here.”

  More silent minutes passed, silent except for whatever bounced and scraped along behind them.

  “They’re waiting,” the driver said. “Damn, I told you we couldn’t waste any time.”

  “Shut up and stay that way,” Marcus said. “When they open the gates drive only partway in so they can’t shut us inside. I don’t trust these crazies. They can get her through the side door.”

  The swinging of large gates was unmistakable and the man behind the wheel drove forward only a couple of feet before they stopped again and the brakes jammed on.

  Poppy felt air through an open window, and Marcus yelled. “She’s behind my seat. Slide the door open.”

  She couldn’t hear the response.

  “We got engine trouble,” Marcus said. “We gotta get this baby to the shop. Take her out. We’ll get a loaner and be back to settle up.”

  More unintelligible conversation.

  “Okay,” Marcus said. “So we’ll take her back with us and get here again when we can.”

  The slam of a sliding door jarred every nerve in Poppy’s body.

  She was picked up gently enough and carried in someone’s arms.

  It had to be a man who had her and he seemed to do his best not to jolt her as he walked swiftly. What she heard next was unmistakably gunfire and she started to choke on the gag. The man who had her broke into a run and didn’t stop until they had gone through what seemed like several doors. At one point his shoes stopped clipping a hard surface and she figured they were on carpet.

  “Get that off her head,” a huge voice roared. “What have they done to her? My instructions were that she was to be treated with absolute care.”

  “This is how she was delivered, Protector.” Her feet were set on the floor and more than one pair of hands unfastened the bag from her head, slashed the bonds at her wrists and ankles and rapidly straightened her clothes.

  The room was dim.

  “Get that away from her.” Looming before her, a massive head of carrot-colored hair, and a shaggy beard and mustache to match stopped the breath in her throat.

  But the gag was cut off and she covered her face, her aching jaws. The corners of her mouth hurt and she felt blood there.

  “Put her there.” Long silver robes swished as the huge figure turned and pointed to an opulent couch, suddenly illuminated by spotlights.

  Swept from her feet again, she was carried and set down as if she might break. Silken pillows supported her head and more silk settled softly over her body.

  At last she spared some attention for these other people. Insignificant, a small number of ordinary people in ordinary clothes, their faces bore no expressions, their eyes must see but did not register reactions.

  “And the two who brought her?” the red-haired one asked. His shaggy eyebrows moved dramatically with each word. Heavy gold rings shone in his ears. The hand he extended toward her showcased long, curved nails encased in solid-gold covers chained together at thick wrists.

  “Dead,” a flat voice announced. “They tried to leave, and we saw they had touched the woman.”

  His attitude and the atmosphere around him thunderous, the great creature approached her, frowning down, eyes glowing.

  “Get out,” he told the others. “Take the bodies of those two and have them thrown to our sick. They will enjoy some vengeance, even if only on two dead humans.”

  The whispering of people departing very quietly followed.

  “You have an important purpose,” the big man said to Poppy, his voice vibrating from the walls. “You will help save my people.”

  “What?” Poppy could just croak out. Was she unconscious again and having nightmares?

  He gave a vast laugh. “Through you I will get what I must h
ave. You and all the humans’ greatest weaknesses will get it for me—their empathy, their honor and conscience, their ability to love.

  “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Zibock, Protector of the Embran. I am here to do what I can no longer trust to others. You will become my…what do you call it? My accomplice.”

  40

  Poppy wasn’t at Fortunes.

  With Liam and Ethan, Sykes stood in the living room of her apartment. Tension boiled in the atmosphere.

  “I watched her come in here,” Sykes said.

  “So you’ve told us,” Liam said. “Several times. But that was hours ago and no one here has seen her.”

  Sykes opened and closed his hands. “She could have gone to Royal Street.”

  “Already called there,” Liam said. Muscles worked in his jaw. “No luck. I’m going to ask Ben and Willow to come back from Kauai. Ben’s gonna want to be here for his sister, and so will Willow. We need everyone we can get.”

  “Nick Montrachet will be with us,” Sykes said. “We’ll have to figure out how to contact the other families—and fast. But I’m going to find Poppy first, then worry about the rest of it.”

  Two sets of footsteps ran up the stairs outside but they were too heavy to belong to a woman.

  Nat Archer came in with David.

  “At least Marley’s at home with Gray and Pascal, but it’s going to take both of them to stop her from sneaking out and trying something dumb,” Nat said. “She’s muttering about ushers or something. I think she’s lost it.”

  Sykes met David’s eyes by accident and realized the boy wasn’t hearing about the Ushers for the first time. “Did you see Marley?” he asked. “Is she all right?”

  “She thinks she ought to travel,” David said obliquely.

  “Travel where?” Liam asked.

  David raised his shoulders to his ears and kept his eyes on Sykes. “She said she was waiting to be told where.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Sykes said.

  David shook his head no. “I guess not. They’re getting a doctor in.”

  “Jesus.” Sykes paced around the perimeter of the room. “I’ve got to reach Poppy. Her skills are patchy, though.” He glared at Liam and Ethan.

  Both men looked uncomfortable.

  “Mind if I join this party?” Nat said. “When I got the news I started a search going. At this point I can’t do anything more than have officers alerted to keep an eye out for her.”

  Sykes paused his walking. “At this point?”

  “There’s no evidence that anything’s happened to Poppy.”

  Sykes spread his arms. “Do you see her anywhere? There’s no sign she ever came back up here after I left her and we were all lured away so we wouldn’t be around to stop anything.”

  “We weren’t,” Liam pointed out.

  “I was,” Ethan told his brother. “She didn’t come back here. I’ve tried her phone a dozen times.”

  Liam gave a hollow laugh. “I wish she would answer but we both know how likely she is to have the thing on.”

  “We’ll be lucky if she has it with her at all.” Sykes didn’t look at the brothers. “She’s starting to communicate. I don’t know when she got convinced she could only receive but not send. It might not make a difference now, but at least it would be a chance. I could try.”

  “Yeah,” Liam said. “We should have helped her with that but she was always the little sister and I guess we never stopped treating her that way.”

  With downcast eyes, David left. He didn’t say a word, just closed the door behind him and clattered down the stairs.

  “Damn, you people are oddballs,” Nat said. He looked at the ceiling. “Come home, Poppy. Just show up and we promise not to beat the crap out of you.”

  No one cracked a smile.

  “We need the Harmony,” Sykes said. “We’re supposed to have it by now. I know we are.” He thought about the little angel gradually emerging from stone in his studio. Why had he been unable to work faster? Why did the piece seem to evolve only at its own pace?

  “And we need another key, and the Ultimate Power,” Liam added. “The time has run out. You said we were warned to hurry, Sykes.”

  “Okay,” Nat said. “We go over everything again. Go back to when you left the Court of Angels, Sykes. Switch on all those extra senses of yours and look for any little thing you might have noticed. Someone who seemed out of place. Are you sure you weren’t followed?”

  Sykes gave him a pitying look, which he quickly softened. You couldn’t expect someone who wasn’t psi to know how off the wall that sounded.

  “Earlier than that,” Nat continued blithely. “The call you got about going to the morgue. Did you hear anything or anyone in the background. Was the caller identified?”

  “No identification. When he said Blades wanted to meet with us I assumed the secrecy was because of his job. Didn’t hear anything or anyone in the background.”

  “How about anything on the way here?”

  Sykes thought about the walk from Royal Street and the woman he had held and kissed. Nothing unusual? Nothing he wanted to share. “I didn’t see a thing. It was getting pretty dark. The crowds were out. Everything was normal.”

  “You saw her come into this building?”

  “I’ve told you I did.” He looked down and away. Very distant, very faint came the suggestion of a voice. He held up a hand for silence and listened. And listened. It didn’t come again.

  “You’re sure she was inside?” Nat said.

  “Yes, goddamn it.”

  “This is my job and I know how to do it,” Nat said. He wore no jacket and planted his fists on his hips. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled above his elbows and every muscle and sinew flexed in his forearms. So did the ones in his jaws.

  “Then do it,” Sykes said under his breath. He kept all channels open so wide he heard a scuffle of small animal feet, very small. He wondered if Poppy knew she had a mouse in her wall.

  “We have to be able to do more than stand here,” Ethan said.

  “We’re going to.” Sykes looked around. “Anyone got a city map?”

  “I don’t need one,” Nat said through his teeth.

  “There,” Liam said, nodding toward a bookcase where a row of guidebooks were lined up. He pulled out one of several for New Orleans and unfolded a map of the city from inside. “This is the one I use when people ask directions. We all think it’s the best.”

  “Got a highlighter?”

  Liam took one from a cup of pens and pencils on a side table.

  Spreading the map on the same table, Sykes pored over the area. “I don’t know what else to do, so I’m going to search. Who’s with me?”

  “We all are,” Nat said, sounding tired.

  “Then we divide this up and off we go.”

  Nat said. “I don’t like waiting around any more than you do. But we don’t have an idea where to start. Someone will have seen something—believe that. We’ll get a lead.”

  David arrived back in the room, unusually flushed for him. He had taken off the shades and his eye looked worse than ever now, the range of colors was so much broader.

  “You walked her back here and down the alley,” he said to Sykes.

  “I’ve already told everyone that.”

  David looked away. “I didn’t know before.”

  Of course he didn’t. “Sorry. Yes, that’s what I did.”

  “You, er, stood outside the door. First facing each other, then side-by-side with you pointed toward the wall.”

  Now he had everyone’s attention. “That’s right,” Sykes said.

  “You left. You turned back a couple of times.”

  “I waved,” Sykes told him.

  “And Poppy had gone inside about then?”

  “Yes.”

  “You went to the morgue where I found you, right? Straight there?”

  “Straight there,” Sykes agreed.

  David looked miserable. “I’m n
ot sure of the order, but Poppy came out of this building and walked down toward the street, then she turned and walked back. She got just so far and she turned around again and tried to run. Someone came up behind her. She was dragged. Her heels made grooves in the gravel.”

  Sykes wiped sweat from his eyes.

  “It was probably a van that backed in. The size of the wheel base looks like it. Or a small pickup. Someone got out and went around to the passenger side. Got back in again. The footsteps from behind Poppy were heavier, like he was carrying something. He stopped a bit, then got in the driver’s seat and drove away. That’s all I’ve got.”

  “What the hell?” Nat gaped. “How would you know that?”

  Sykes said simply, “Patterns?”

  “Patterns,” David agreed. “Yours, because I know them—Poppy’s, too. Others are just marks to me like hundreds of others—nothing I remember seeing before.”

  Sykes massaged his temples. Once more there was a whispering voice very far away. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought it said, “Hear me.”

  41

  It was the biggest egg Poppy had ever seen. Cradled in a red bowl, from end to end the shell must measure about eight inches.

  “Eat,” Zibock cried with gusto. “It is the best of the best and I’m happy to give it to you. They are rare now and must be used sparingly. But it will make you stronger. I believe you have been misused on my account. This, I regret.”

  She sat on her silk bed, with pillows propped all around her, while Zibock, his own red bowl in the palm of one huge hand, stood over her. Her bowl was on her lap.

  Whatever she did must be thought through carefully. To antagonize this bizarre person could be lethal. She knew this without his having said an unpleasant word to her.

  Poppy swallowed. She didn’t give up easily but she couldn’t get around the conviction that she would die here.

  He fixed her with his glowing eyes. “Eat,” he said.

  She looked up at him and realized she was frowning.

  Then he laughed, a big laugh that shook his oversized body. “Aha, it is your first of its kind. I shall show you.”

  He sat on his haunches, put one end of the egg between his pointed teeth and bit down. The shell cracked open at the top, breaking off a large, ragged piece. First he sniffed the interior, then nodded. He chewed what he had bitten off and fastened his mouth over the hole in the shell. Up he tilted the egg and with a loud sucking sound appeared to inhale the contents.