Edgewood Series: Books 1 - 3

by Karen McQuestion

  “We have to join the others,” I said, taking her arm and steering her forward.

  “But...” she said, confused. “Frank is David’s son? How can that be?”

  I shrugged. “The way I understand it, you didn’t know it was David that night because you were drunk and he told you he was his own cousin. Then you went with him to his hotel. Nine months later Frank was born.”

  We were only ten feet from the group when she stopped walking, a stricken look on her face. “How could I not have known?” she whispered.

  I’d been impatient with her because I was anxious about the upcoming night, but when I heard how upset she sounded, everything else melted away and my heart took over.

  “It’s okay,” I said, giving her a hug. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You were lied to. Plus you’d had too much to drink.”

  We stood there for a second, until Dr. Anton said, “Everything okay there, Russ?” His forehead furrowed in concern.

  Carly pulled away and wiped her eyes. “I’m fine,” she called out over her shoulder. “Just wishing Russ luck.” And then she leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Be really careful tonight. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

  “Okay then,” Dr. Anton said, rubbing his hands together. “Shall we get this show on the road?”

  The five of us followed him like ducklings. Tonight Mallory looked even better than usual in a long shimmery blue dress with her hair mostly pulled up except for a few pieces that curled around her face. Besides the fact that her eyes had all this dark stuff on the lids, she looked pretty spectacular. Jameson, on the other hand, was a different story. He didn’t wear the tux well, in my opinion. He tugged on the sleeves like they bugged him, reminding me of a kid who couldn’t wait to change back to his normal clothes. I think I pulled off the whole look much better. Carly, Rosie, and Dr. Anton were wearing their usual clothes, of course, so standing alongside them we looked like kids going to the prom. I almost expected someone to ask us to line up so they could take pictures.

  Leaving PGDC and entering the world topside was an adjustment. Even the air felt different—not as fresh and clean and with a gustier breeze. Getting into the limo in the parking structure I got a whiff of exhaust fumes and realized this was something you’d never smell in the world below. Was PGDC a microcosm of goodness, or an artificial elitist society? I honestly didn’t know, but the air smelled better anyway.

  When we arrived at the building where the Black Tie Bash would be held we were escorted to a back room to wait for our final briefing. A table off to one side held a pitcher of water and bottles of soft drinks, along with an ice bucket and some glasses, but nobody wanted anything. We milled around for a little bit before taking a seat on one of the leather couches. We’d all been pretty quiet up until then, but now our nerves came out. Mallory kept fiddling with her necklace, a carved white rose on a chain, and began talking about who might be at the Bash. “Last year all the actors who won Academy Awards were invited. Wouldn’t that be fabulous if it happened again?”

  “Really fabulous,” Jameson said, cracking his knuckles one at a time. Even though he answered, he wasn’t looking at her. I wasn’t an empath like Nadia but it was apparent he was nervous. He reached over the arm of the couch and raised his palm upwards, lifting the lamp on the end table with his telekinesis. Just to prove he could do it. He was like a nervous ballplayer tossing a few balls to warm up.

  “You’ll see a lot of famous people,” Dr. Anton said, “but don’t let that be a distraction. I wish you could just relax and enjoy the evening, but unfortunately that’s not why you’re here.” He rubbed his goatee thoughtfully, a gesture I’d seen many times before when I was his patient.

  “What do you think is going to happen tonight?” I asked him.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Well Russ, there’s no way to know for sure…”

  “I realize that. But I value your opinion. How do you think this is going to go?”

  Dr. Anton cleared his throat. “In all honesty? I think this is going to go badly. If it were up to me they’d cancel the Bash.”

  Jameson released his hold on the levitating lamp, which clattered down onto the table. Carly looked like the breath had been knocked out of her. “Why do you say that?” she asked. “Do you know something?”

  “I don’t know anything for sure,” he said, holding up a hand to indicate time out. “And I’m not trying to alarm anyone. I just know what the Associates are capable of.”

  Again, I didn’t have Nadia’s gift for reading people, but I suspected he knew so much more than he was telling.

  “Well maybe they should cancel the Bash,” Carly said. “Or not send them in. They’re high school students for crying out loud.” Her voice was ragged with emotion.

  Rosie reached over and patted her arm. “Carly, it’s all gonna be fine, trust me. Yes, they’re high school students, but they also have incredible capabilities and the security at the Bash is rock solid. There’s nothing to worry about.” If you could bottle Rosie’s reassurances they could sell it to every worried person in America. Her words had a calming effect, at least on Carly, who seemed to have backed away from hysteria and now only looked worried.

  “Besides, it’s too late now,” Jameson said. “I’m wearing the tux.” He stood up and put his arms out, welcoming the world to the Jameson show.

  “I’d say the tux is wearing you,” I said.

  A second later, Mitch and Will came walking into the room, all smiles. “Good evening, Russ, Mallory, and Jameson,” Mitch said, giving us a slight bow. “And of course, a good evening to your esteemed chaperones.”

  Will said, “We just want to go over a few things before you join the procession. First of all, kudos go to both Russ and Mallory for fulfilling your objectives. Because of Russ’s incredible healing sessions, the president is back to work and feeling one hundred percent better.” He paused as if there might be applause. When there wasn’t he kept going. “And Mallory’s visit with the vice president went well, I hear, so excellent work there, Mallory.”

  Mitch said. “As you know, our main objective for you this evening is to protect the president and her daughter Layla. Two things to remember—watch for anything or anybody who is acting suspiciously and report them to the Secret Service. An agent will be near you at all times. Secondly, stick together. If Layla has to go to the bathroom, someone needs to go with her, most likely you, Mallory, and one of the boys. She should never be alone for a minute, got it?”

  “Got it,” Mallory said, beaming, while Jameson and I nodded to show we understood. We’d been through this so many times before that it was practically tattooed on my brain. I could only guess that they thought we were teenage screw-ups who were going to forget all our training once we walked through the door.

  “Eyes and ears open, the whole time,” Will said. “Practice your observational skills and scan the room continuously. Don’t let your guard down. Anything is possible.”

  “We’re on it,” Jameson said. He unbuttoned his jacket, then seemed to reconsider and buttoned it again.

  “Glad to hear it,” Mitch said. “Are we ready to head out then?” He looked to Will, who nodded in approval.

  Mallory slipped her hand into the crook of Jameson’s elbow. “Let’s do this thing.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Nadia

  At the baggage claim area, a young man held a sign with my name on it. I let out a huge sigh of relief. “I’m so glad to see you!” I said rushing up to him. “I was afraid no one would be here.”

  He smiled, his teeth so straight and white they almost looked fake. “Not to worry. I wouldn’t have left you stranded. You’ve been on the schedule since last night.”

  When my suitcase came around on the conveyer, he grabbed it out of my hands, insisting that he’d take care of everything. I followed him out of the airport and to the car parked outside, not surprised when I saw a waiting limo. I slid into the back seat, and was greeted by the d
river, an older man with a fringe of white hair. He didn’t turn his head all the way around, so I only got a partial view of his face. It occurred to me that I was being awfully trusting, but it also occurred to me that I had to be. My Praetorian Guard contact, Preston Moore, was the only one who knew when I was arriving. But were these guys with the PG, or were they a hired car service?

  The young man, after putting my suitcase in the trunk, got in the passenger seat up front. “Do you have your seat belt on?” he called back to me. When I said yes, he said something to the driver and we took off, tires screeching. Once we exited the airport, our pace increased and my stomach lurched. The driver put a flashing red light on the dashboard and we sliced through traffic, forcing lines of cars to move aside for us and going over medians when intersections were too crowded. I guess I didn’t have to tell them I was in a hurry to get to the Bash.

  When the driver pulled off the street, we passed a crowd, all of them excitedly waving at the limo as if they thought I might be someone important. A guard stopped the car and the driver rolled down the window, showed him some paperwork, and we proceeded into a u-shaped driveway and stopped under an overhang. I realized then we’d arrived at a fine hotel. The younger man hopped out and opened the door for me.

  “Are we here?” I asked, but he’d already gone back to get my suitcase out of the trunk.

  I climbed out, feeling unsteady like I’d just gotten off a roller coaster. The entryway of the building was brightly lit with red carpeting and velvet ropes leading up to the main door. An hour or so earlier celebrities had walked the red carpet and the place had swarmed with paparazzi. Now the place had been cleared out and there was only one bored valet standing at a wooden podium.

  “Have a good evening, miss.” The younger man dropped my suitcase next to me and jumped back into the limo before I could even respond. The limo pulled away and I was left standing alone in front of the building.

  “Nadia?” A young woman with curly dark hair and cocoa-colored skin approached me.

  “Yes?”

  “Come along, we don’t have much time.”

  “Is this where the Bash is?”

  “Yes.” She grabbed the handle of my suitcase and led the way. I trailed after, trying to figure out what was going on. I wanted to ask questions, but keeping up with her took everything I had. We passed security at several points and she showed them her badge. When we reached a door further into the building, we were stopped by a guard sitting in front of a full body scanner like at the airport. She turned to me and said, “Is there anything in your bags that you might need in the next three hours? Medication, an inhaler, anything like that?”

  “No.” I shook my head.

  “We’re going to leave them here for now,” she said. Now that we were closer, I spotted an earpiece with an attached spiral cord that dangled behind her ear and threaded into her clothing. The whole thing was nearly camouflaged by her thick curly hair. Her badge, now two feet in front of my nose, listed her name as Nedra Babish.

  “I need to get a message to the security people,” I said. “It’s really important.”

  Nedra titled her head to the security guard, as if to tell me not to say anymore in front of him. She guided me toward the scanner. “Let’s wait until we get through, shall we?”

  I went inside the booth and held my arms up like I was surrendering. When the guard gave me the okay, it was Nedra’s turn. Once through, she hurried down the hallway, until we reached a bank of elevators. I followed her inside, and she pushed a button for the third floor. When the doors closed and the elevator shimmied upwards, she said. “You were saying?”

  We were close enough for me to pick up her vibe, and I sensed she was on our side. I opened my mouth and it all spilled out, every detail. I told her that Jameson, Mallory, and Russ would be carrying stones that were going to explode and that Mrs. Whitehouse was going to be attending the Bash in disguise. “Russ’s old science teacher, Mr. Specter, invented something called a Specteron and it shoots some kind of dangerous particle beam and it sounds like it’s going to be at the Bash. And Mallory is still under the mind control of Mr. Specter from when he had her brainwashed by this device he invented—the Deleo.” Even to me, the things I was saying sounded like crazy ramblings, but Nedra listened carefully. When we arrived on our floor, we left the elevator but I kept talking. When I was done, she spoke into a piece on her wrist, repeating everything I’d said. Once she was done, she looked to me. “Anything else?”

  I racked my brain, thinking. “I think that’s it,” I said finally.

  She signed off with whoever was at the other end, and said to me, “They all went through security and emptied their pockets, and none of them had the stones you talked about, so no worries there, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, relieved.

  “Now let’s get you in hair and makeup and into your gown so you can join the event.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Russ

  After we went through security, Dr. Anton hurried us into the banquet hall. I was glad for his sense of urgency because it enabled me to give a quick goodbye to Carly. Given enough time there would be awkward hugs and anguished goodbyes; unnecessary signs of Carly grieving the loss of me before I’d even shown signs of dying.

  The first part of the Bash involved an official procession where all the guests lined up to meet the president, her husband, Layla, the Vice President, and Mrs. Montalbo. All of them looked glamorous, the men in tuxes, the women in long dresses. Evening gowns, I guess they’re called. Layla looked incredible, taller than usual and elegant in a dress that left one shoulder bare. Her mom’s dress was navy blue and basic-looking, but she had some pretty sparkly earrings that caught the light when she moved her head.

  We were instructed to file past like we were in a receiving line at a wedding. An aide would announce our names and we were to exchange greetings for no more than ten seconds and then move on. Ten seconds, seriously, that’s what we were told. With close to four hundred guests, this part of the evening could take nearly an hour. The three of us were scheduled to go first, so that we could step to the side afterward both to guard the presidential family and also to observe the other guests as they went through the line.

  Jameson, pulling Mallory by the hand, pushed past me so he could be the first to go through. I let him, because why not? I had nothing to prove. They were announced to the president and vice president, and then to Layla, who told her parents, “I’ve already met Mallory and Jameson. They’re friends of Russ, my date.” I hoped Jameson caught that.

  Mallory said, “Happy birthday, Layla!”

  “It’s really tomorrow, but thanks.”

  I went next, and the president said she was very glad to meet me as if I hadn’t held my hands over her at the hospital and infused her body with healing energy.

  I said, “You’re looking well tonight, President Bernstein.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Becker,” she said with a wink. “I’ve never felt better.”

  Mr. Bernstein grasped my hand and said, “Take good care of our little girl, Russ. Make sure she behaves.”

  I said, “Of course, sir.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Vice President Montalbo take Mallory’s hand and lean in to whisper in her ear. Meanwhile, Jameson was saying something funny to Mrs. Montalbo, causing her to laugh. When I got to Layla, she shook my hand and leaned over to kiss my cheek. “Here’s the man of the hour,” she said. And then more quietly, “I got a visit from your girlfriend asking me to give you a message.”

  “Nadia?” Stunned doesn’t begin to touch my reaction. Shocked is more like it. I lowered my voice. “She astral projected to you?”

  “Yes.” And then so quietly I barely heard the words. “She had some concerns about this evening. I already told the Secret Service. I’ll fill you in after I’m done here.”

  “Can you tell me now?” The hall was getting noisy as guests entered and mingled. It looked like not everybody was choosing to get in line, or
maybe they were just waiting.

  She tilted her head to indicate the encroaching line. In another five seconds, I’d be in the direct path of the man next to me. I vaguely recognized him as the lead singer of a rock band Carly had loved in high school. “Later,” Layla whispered.

  It killed me to walk away without hearing more, but rock and roll guy was extending his hand to Layla saying, “It’s awesome to meet you.”

  Vice President and Mrs. Montalbo greeted me and said it was nice to meet me. There was no sign that he remembered me as the young man who’d insulted him in his office just recently. So that was good.

  I took my place along the wall next to Mallory and Jameson. Across the room, servers offered guests glasses of champagne, while others walked around with trays of hors d'oeuvres. The line leading up to the president snaked around the side of the room, and Secret Service agents were everywhere, not even trying to blend in. Mallory nudged me and said, “Can you believe we’re here? Isn’t this wild?”

  “Yeah, pretty crazy.” I kept my eyes ahead, looking for suspicious behavior, but also looking for a woman disguised as a man. I’d had trouble sleeping the night before so I’d mentally gone over the plot of the comic book Mr. Specter and Kevin Adams had written. Superheroes of the Twenty-First Century! Most of the action in the story had taken place in a banquet hall, much like this one. And from there, the similarities kept coming. Just like Spark Boy, I had healed a lady president who’d been in a coma and like Persuasa, Mallory had used mind control on a vice president who’d previously crossed over to the Associate side. Those two things alone made me think I needed to pay attention to the story. Interesting that back when the story was written the idea of a lady president was pretty farfetched and here we were more than twenty years later, with a woman president and it was no big deal.

  The rest of the story hadn’t played out yet. We were at a ball, although it wasn’t a charity ball, but that was a minor point. If the evening followed the comic book, the commander of the Associates, a woman, would be here disguised as a man. An explosion would go off, causing the room to fill with smoke. And then, pandemonium as the crowd panics trying to escape. What happened after that? I thought about the next panel in the comic book. One of the Associates aims a shot of electricity at the president which is intercepted by Spark Boy who stops it with a bolt of lightning of his own. Jameson had his own heroic role in this when his character, Mover!, propels the missile away from the president and shoots it out of the ceiling.