The Witch's Heart (The Rise of Orion Book 2)

by J. M. Davies

  “There’s a few things I didn’t explain properly back at the house…” Steel continued as they entered the busy hospital and stepped into the elevator. He pressed the second floor and let a group of doctors and nurses enter, preventing any further conversation. The bell pinged and they made their way out to stand in the hallway at reception.

  Steel started to talk and Ella listened but kept her eyes focused on the surroundings, trying to gauge where Marcus would be. The doors to the ward were pulled wide open and a gurney carrying a sedated and bandaged Marcus rushed inside. Next to him walked a beautiful lady with hair the same shade as his, with a baby in her arms. She wore a navy T-shirt to cover her modesty, identical to the one she had that belonged to Marcus. Ella’s heart boomed louder in her ears, drowning out Steel’s voice. She watched as the woman glanced over at Marcus and captured his hand in hers. A wave of bile touched the back of Ella’s mouth.

  “Shit.” The room tilted. She couldn’t do this.

  Steel grabbed her hand and squeezed it, redirecting her attention to meet his eyes.

  “Remember what I said—don’t presume anything. Leave the past where it belongs, Ella.”

  She squeezed his hand back and they moved closer to the gurney.

  “It doesn’t look like the past to me.” She let go of his hand.

  She stepped closer but the medics and the woman with Marcus brushed her aside. They continued and rolled him into the waiting private room. A nurse pulled the glamourous but disheveled woman glued to Marcus away and removed the baby from her arms. Ella stared, unable to take her eyes away from the scene, as if she were a spectator and what was going on had nothing to do with her at all. The woman glanced back and met her curious gaze. No smiles were exchanged and an overwhelming sense of this woman being her enemy swamped her.

  “Ella, come on. Let’s go and see how our boy is doing. The doctor can give us a breakdown.”

  Refocusing her thoughts on Marcus, she nodded, and marched toward the room they had wheeled her husband into. Briefly, she glanced sideways and watched as a nurse directed the woman to another room. For the first time since she set eyes on her, Ella released the breath she had been holding.

  A doctor stood at the head of the bed, connecting electrodes and leads to Marcus’s purple and black chest. A white gauze bandage covered his ribs, and there was one on his right thigh too. The doctor spoke quietly to the nurse, who set up an intravenous syringe pump on a stand, along with fluids. As she studied Marcus, she realized, as his eyelids fluttered, he wasn’t fully awake. She couldn’t hold back anymore and rushed to his side; she grabbed his limp hand and squeezed it as tears bubbled to the surface in her eyes.

  “Marcus.” She pressed hard into his palm, willing him to hear her voice. She could help him recover and tend to his wounds.

  “Are you his wife?” The doctor observed her face and she watched as he looked over her shoulder at something she couldn’t see.

  “No,” a female voice said behind her.

  Ella opened her mouth to protest but a weak answer came forth. “Yes, I’m his wife.” Ella wiped tears from her cheeks.

  “This is Mrs. Drayton, Doctor. I can confirm this. I’m Ben Steel. I am the man who arranged for the helicopter to land. Would you mind if we spoke outside?”

  Ella reached her hand out and grabbed Steel’s shirt, not wanting to be left alone with the strange woman who now circled the bed and appeared to have some claim on Marcus. The woman stared at her.

  “Marcus would want me to stay. I know he would. He suffered this for me. I’m not leaving,” she said.

  Ella studied the woman she knew to be Ava Marie Carlos. The woman loved Marcus and had her sights set on him for sure. Ella’s cheeks heated and Steel tapped her hand, drawing her attention away from the woman laying claim to her husband.

  “I won’t be long.” He flicked his gaze at the doctor.

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry. Mr. Drayton is only allowed immediate family until he is stabilized. After that, it is up to his wife.”

  Ella swallowed past the invisible lump in her throat and stared at Marcus’s hand. She rubbed his third finger where the platinum wedding band should be, only to find it missing. Why? Why would he remove it? Lifting her head, she stared at the woman opposite her, shocked at the situation and her intense dislike for her.

  “Please leave,” she said in a calm voice she didn’t recognize.

  It took a great deal of will not to shout. The truth was she didn’t know what this woman was to Marcus. She didn’t know their story or history, but she was his wife, for now. Damn him.

  Heavy booted thuds behind her announced someone else had arrived.

  “Sorry, I’m late, sir. I escorted the women we brought back to be checked over and lost sight of Drayton. How’s he doing?”

  A quick conversation ensued, which ended with Steel stepping out of the room and the door closing behind him. Ella stared at the man who still had camo paint on the creases of his ears. They hadn’t spoken much since the abduction, and yet it no longer seemed to matter. She was happy to see him unharmed.

  Jake looked at her and walked straight to her side, touching her shoulder, but looked over at the beauty standing across from her and holding her husband’s hand. “Mrs. Carlos, I will escort you to the compound. I think it’s the best place for you and it’s what Drayton would want.”

  Hearing the formal address, the woman jerked her head up and rich almond eyes studied her. Ella examined the woman back, absorbing her creamy skin and curvaceous body. Knowing Marcus as well as she did, there was no doubt that at some point these two had been together in every sense of the word and it chilled her to the bone to think she could lose him. Hadn’t she been thinking that would be for the best? That Marcus deserved happiness with someone normal?

  Jake whispered in her ear. “Hang in there, princess. Anything I can get you?”

  She smiled at his endearment. He had never used a nickname for her before. She removed her hand from Marcus’s and stroked the frog skeleton tattoo on his bicep, noting the dirt and grime. “Can you bring me in his wash bag and some fresh clothes?”

  “Sure, but I meant you, Ella.”

  Jake touched her hand and she sensed his sorrow for her.

  “I’m fine, Jake, really. Do you know about Josephine?”

  “Marcus’s mother?”

  Ella nodded and sniffed. “She passed away and I’m not sure how he will take it. Should I wait or tell him as soon as he wakes?” she said quietly.

  Jake swiped his eyes to the left quickly and then back at her before he answered. “You’ll know when the time is right.”

  Steel walked back inside and closed the door behind him.

  Jake stepped away from Ella. “I’m going to take Mrs. Carlos back for a debriefing, and I’ll return later with the things you need, Ella. If you can think of anything—say, chocolate—let me know.” He leaned over her and kissed her cheek.

  She clutched his hand and smiled at him. “Thank you.”

  “Ella, if you want me to stay I will, but the doc said Marcus is stable. They replaced the chest tube that he had in for the pneumothorax, and he will have an x-ray later to see how it’s doing. He’s broken some ribs but they are treating that with pain meds. They cleaned his leg and gave him intravenous doses of antibiotics. Overall, he looks worse than he is. He’s staying put for a few days to ensure he doesn’t get any complications from his injuries but he should be fine. He just needs rest and time to heal.”

  Ella wondered why she felt adrift and unable to take charge. It wasn’t like her at all to sit and wait to be told something. Why didn’t she ask the doctor? The news was better than she had feared and that was all that mattered.

  “Thank you for talking to the doctor. I could have done that; there was no need.”

  “You’re one of us, Ella. I served in the military a long time. Wives have more courage than any one of us, but at times like this, being able to ask the right questions is vital. Excuse me
for stepping in, but this is an easy task for me. My men are used to their injuries—most will self-diagnose. They are used to getting injured—most spouses aren’t. It’s a shock and you never get used to it.”

  She pressed her hand over her mouth. It was true; seeing Marcus pale, bloodied, and covered in bruises across his chest with dressings and a tube draining into a plastic stand made her freeze—never mind the fact this strange woman was here laying claim to him. Her mind went into panic mode. All she latched onto was the fact Marcus was stable. She lifted her hand and laced it over his to touch his warm, rough skin, and she prickled with heat.

  “Thank you, but you go. I know you have a lot to attend to. I will be fine here.”

  Ava Carlos glared at Ella and she studied her hand over Marcus’s. “What will happen to the baby?” Ava said.

  Ella was confused. She thought the baby Ava held earlier was hers. Jake relayed to Steel what had happened at the villa and Ella listened as her heart beat frantically.

  “I guess child services will collect the orphan and take him into care.”

  Acting on impulse and overwhelming need, Ella shouted, “No! Finding someone to take the baby this quickly will not be easy.”

  “They have emergency twenty-four hour services for these situations, Ella,” Steel interjected.

  “Did you explain the situation to the nurse?” Ella stared over at Ava.

  The svelte woman walked around the bed, her eyes flicking over Ella’s face. “No, I think the nurse assumed he was mine. She asked for my details and I didn’t want to give my real name, so I said Mrs. Drayton.” She smiled.

  Ella stared into Ava’s beautiful dark eyes and the room swirled for a second. It seemed like fate had brought this baby to her for a reason. She studied the men in the room, looking from Steel to Jake, who covered his mouth with his hand as if he knew what was coming.

  “Let me take the baby. I could look after him, just for a while, until they are able to find him a family.”

  Steel blew out a deep breath and stared at the ceiling as if an answer escaped him. Jake looked equally unable to respond.

  “No one will know.”

  Ava spoke those words.

  Steel and Jake snapped their heads to look at the woman who seemed to occupy too much space in the room and was too smug for her own good. Ella didn’t trust her one bit, but as the two men stared at each other—Steel pulled his moustache and Jake scratched his head—she knew for once they didn’t have control. A sudden sensation of overwhelming tears grew inside her. A baby’s sharp cry echoed from the distance, calling to her, and she dissolved into a flood of unexpected tears. What was happening to her?

  She couldn’t go through with it. What was she thinking?

  Strong arms engulfed her as she pressed her face into the broad and solid chest of the man who held her. She knew it was Steel without seeing his face. She knew the scent of the ocean belonged to him and him alone. A door opened, footsteps trotted away and the door closed. Resting her head against him, it seemed natural to let this man hold and comfort her. She felt safe. It wasn’t the first time she had received solace from him.

  “You’ve been through a terrifying ordeal. Losing a baby is a tragedy. I know what that is like, believe me. It’s time to consider seeing the doctor on the compound. She handles all our team. Marcus may have mentioned her, Dr. Elizabeth Fielding. She works with those who suffer with post-traumatic stress disorder. She sees them regularly and the treatment she provides is invaluable.”

  Maybe he was right, but how could she begin to explain what was circulating inside her head after talking to Josephine’s ghost—who insisted her baby lived?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Aidan O’Connor sat on the silver stool in his starched white coat, studying the latest results from the blood samples, and smiled at how things had changed for him over the past couple of years. Instead of a prison cell, he ran and controlled this incredible laboratory, creating and working on exactly what he had always dreamed of. He lifted his glasses off his slim face and held them as he stared through the clear glass window into the nursery, where dozens of babies from a few weeks old to several months lay in their cots, watched over by attentive nurses. Their cries and gurgles were no different from any other infants, but these children were unique and special.

  They were his.

  Throughout history, in times of war and peace, the military had carried out tests on their own all with the same edict: to create a “Kill-Proof” soldier. It wasn’t Aidan’s goal. He believed that most humans didn’t use their full potential and were capable of far more than they realized but they were lazy, which, in turn, would lead to their extinction. There were too many idiots who craved power and had more money than intelligence. Sooner or later, he believed the nuclear button would be pressed and planet Earth would be dust in the endless solar system. He believed the only way to survive was to ensure you were on the right side and that would be the strongest, ready and capable of adapting to any given situation.

  He wanted to create the perfect being, ready to withstand and adapt to any change in environment or situation. Sitting back in his swivel chair, he thought back to how he came to where he was today.

  He believed the key to survival lay in DNA. Those with exceptional strength and of superior intelligence—if isolated and trained—could enhance certain inherent traits which currently were left dormant, like extra-sensory perception. His experiments investigated all possible ways to create an individual with extraordinary capabilities. He also looked at editing DNA to eradicate disease and to combine it with other organisms to enhance all senses, but his subjects, mostly animals at the time, died and his research was never explored further due to his failure and loss of funding. His hypothesis was labeled inhumane and thrown out. He wanted to use subjects from birth to focus on enhancing traits by restricting the environment to ensure complete control.

  After being ridiculed, he adapted.

  He was a survivor. He assumed a new identity as the college professor Aidan O’Connor. At the end of a tiresome lecture one day at the college, a man approached him and his life changed direction yet again. It was that first meeting with his boss, who shared his beliefs but who opened his mind to other possibilities.

  The door thudded closed in the distance and Aidan thought the last of his students had left. He was caught by surprise when an unfamiliar and deep voice spoke his name, making him stop and turn around.

  “Professor O’Connor, what a pleasure. Your students are lucky to have you. I’m impressed and these days that is no easy feat,” said the rotund and suntanned man with receding hair, dressed impeccably in a dark fitted suit. By his side stood two taller and stockier severe-looking men with their arms held in front. The man lit and puffed away on a Cuban cigar. The swirl of smoke and pungent aroma floated between them. Aidan squinted and tried to put a name to the face of the man, studying his bloated face and thin white beard and noticing the striking gold signet ring on his right hand. The man oozed money and supreme confidence. He didn’t recognize him from the faculty and for the life of him, couldn’t summon a name. Nervous in the presence of this stranger, he gathered his books from the podium. His fear rose that his identity was discovered. He slipped his glasses on and studied the direct stare of the man who blew smoke right in his face.

  “This is a non-smoking building.” Aidan pointed at the no-smoking sign. He did this to cover his nerves and to display his authority.

  The man didn’t flinch. He continued to suck in a deep breath and smoke at his leisure, all the while silently assessing him. When he spoke this time, he used the cigar to illustrate his point.

  “I didn’t think you were one for following the rules, O’Connor.”

  The tone held a bite and hinted of a knowledge of him that Aidan didn’t like. Aidan stood up straight and lifted his briefcase from the table, watching each of the bulldozers on either side of the man with a deep, rich voice.

  “If there is something
I can help you with please, get to the point. I’m a very busy man.”

  He strode away from the isolated seminar hall and exited the building, walking at a steady pace until he stood outside.

  The man followed behind him. “You really need to listen to what I have to say. I have been charting your successes and failures, you know. I’m an avid fan. Your research has always fascinated me, but I’m surprised to see you in a classroom, not a laboratory. You don’t seem quite at home here for some reason. Perhaps it’s to do with the fact that this isn’t where you belong at all because you’re not who you pretend to be?”

  The hair on the back of his neck rose. Aidan ground his teeth together and he counted to ten to remain calm. He did a quick sweep of the park area in front. Next door was the Andover museum, but it was a Wednesday afternoon and there was no one around. Even so, the odds were stacked against him, and it was in a public place. He took several steps to stand right in front of the man, his height overshadowing him with the intent to intimidate, and sneered. “Who are you?”

  The bodyguards closed in rank and the man, who showed no fear or signs of backing down, lifted his hand to brush his cohorts away like bothersome ants. Instantly they retreated.

  “The press call me Mr. Larry Stein, but to those who know me well, it’s Larry. To those who know me better, they call me Padre.”

  The professor gasped and he pressed his hand to secure his glasses. The man in front of him was a billionaire. He couldn’t remember where the man fell in the list of the top ten, but he was high up. Now he realized he had seen his face on a magazine last week attending a benefit or something similar, but it was the nickname “Padre” that made him gasp. The Father was the leader of an underground and secretive worldwide organization that had roots across the world. They were called the Elusti. Mr. Stein offered his outstretched hand to Aidan.

  “Let’s cut to the chase, Professor Simon Cohen.”

  The man called him by his real name, which left him with no option. He was aware of the power this man yielded, and dipped his head in submission.