The Prophecy (Daughters of the People Series Book 1) (27 page)

“Give them to
her,” Maya said softly.

James’ lips
thinned. “You better know what you’re doing, Maya.”

He gave Amelia
the two cases he held. She gripped the handles tightly, walked slowly toward
Dani, and handed the cases to Winstead. He set them on a table set off to the
side, then nudged Amelia and murmured to her. She nodded and retraced her
steps, taking Maya’s case, returning with it to Winstead’s side, and giving it
to him without a fuss. He caught her arm and held her in place beside the
table.

Lukas opened the
cases, inspecting the contents carefully, his eyes wide. “Lovely,” he murmured.
“Thank you for bringing these. They’ll make a beautiful addition to my
collection.” He glanced at Winstead and shut the cases, one by one. “Alas, we
seem to have a small problem. This is not the complete set.”

Maya stiffened. “That’s
everything the IECS holds except the skeleton.”

“Please do not
lie to me, Dr. Bellegarde,” Lukas said, a chill underlying the pleasant tone of
his voice. “Where is the armband?”

“Sweden,” she
said promptly. “If you want it, you’ll have to negotiate with Dr. Lindberg and
his team.”

Lukas drew the handgun
smoothly from Winstead’s holster and pointed it at Amelia’s head. James gasped
and stepped forward, and Maya grabbed his arm, stopping him cold.

“No more games,”
Lukas said. “Give me the armband now.”

Maya’s jaws
snapped shut. “I don’t have the armband. If I did, I’d give it to you.”

“Would you?” Lukas
asked softly. “Would you really? Perhaps with a little more incentive.”

He shifted and
pointed the gun at James and his finger tightened on the trigger. Winstead
jerked Amelia away from Lukas. Maya shoved James with her left hand, hard, and
with her right, she unsheathed her staff and threw it in one fluid motion.

The staff sailed
through the air, tumbling end over end.

The gun went
off, its loud bark echoing in the warehouse.

The bullet hit
below her left clavicle, pinching Maya’s skin, the force of the impact pivoting
her around.

Time slowed. Her
gaze fell on James sprawled across the cold concrete floor. He scrambled to his
knees, shouting at her. Winstead covered Amelia’s head with a large hand and
shoved her face into his chest. Dani screamed, her face contorting as she
struggled against her bonds.

And Lukas
Alexiou, the man of the hour, gaped at Maya, his expression so full of sorrow
and shock, it wrenched her heart.

She staggered to
the side and blackness crowded around the edge of her vision.

Daughters poured
into the warehouse from every entrance, avenging angels hell bent on loosing
their fury on the unsuspecting Shadow, and Maya sagged to the floor, energy
draining from her in a dizzying rush.

* * *

James scrambled
upright, stumbling to Maya’s side as she staggered sideways. He caught her,
eased her onto her hands and knees, and knelt beside her.

“Amelia,” she
said, her voice strained.

James swiveled
around, scanning the room in frantic bursts. Amelia was huddled beneath the
table not fifteen feet away, hands over her head. Winstead was hustling Lukas
Alexiou toward a rear exit. He stopped and scooped up a screaming Dani, threw
her over one broad shoulder, and grabbed Alexiou’s elbow, nearly dragging the
older man in his wake. Dani kicked and twisted, her screams unintelligible over
the sounds of Daughters flooding into the building, engaging the men Winstead
and Alexiou left behind. Winstead smacked her bottom hard, and Dani squawked. A
moment later, the three slipped outside and were gone.

James shifted
his attention to his daughter. “Amelia!”

She glanced up
and began crawling toward him, dragging Maya’s staff in one hand and a small
box in the other. By the time she reached them, Maya was lying flat on her back,
her skin unnaturally pale, her breathing shallow. James pressed his hands
against the bullet wound. Blood seeped through his fingers, coating everything
in its path in a sticky, red mess.

Amelia reached
him and opened the box, a first aid kit. She sifted through it, tossing aside items
willy-nilly. She ripped open the packaging on a large piece of gauze, nudged
his hand aside, and slapped it over Maya’s wound.

Maya moaned. Her
eyes fluttered open and she swiped weakly at Amelia’s hands. “Need to get up.”

James placed a
restraining hand on her unwounded shoulder, holding her in place. “We’re taking
care of you, Maya. Just hold still, ok?”

“Protect you,”
she wheezed out. Amelia removed one piece of gauze and exchanged it for
another, pushing firmly against the wound. Maya grimaced and gritted her teeth.
“Let me up.”

“You’re bleeding
too much,” he said flatly. “There’s a hole in your shoulder, and I don’t care
what you say, I’m not letting you get up.”

“Right arm…still
good.”

Amelia sat back
abruptly, her young face nearly as colorless as Maya’s. “We’re out of gauze and
she’s still bleeding.”

“Here.” James
yanked his jacket off, then his t-shirt, the cool dampness of the warehouse
chill against his bare skin. He folded the t-shirt in a rough square and handed
it to Amelia. “Use this. If that doesn’t work, I’ll look for something else.”

Amelia glanced
over his shoulder and squealed, and James whirled around. One of Alexiou’s
goons was heading their way, eyebrows lowered, his mouth a thin line. James’
heart dropped like a lead weight into his stomach. They were defenseless with
Maya wounded and flat on her back.

The gun. He
mentally smacked himself in the forehead and fumbled with the ankle holster,
trying to remember Maya’s instructions as he pulled the tiny gun out from under
his pants leg.

“Aim small, miss
small,” James muttered. He aimed and pulled the trigger, and pulled. The goon
was almost on top of them and closing fast. James squeezed harder, praying the
gun would go off in time. After a small eternity, it fired, recoiling against
his hand with a loud bang. The goon staggered sideways and blood spread across
his torso in a dark patch. James squeezed the trigger again. Almost
immediately, it went off, the sharp report carrying across the warehouse.

The goon dropped
to the floor with a thud. Behind him, another goon was running toward them.
James fired the tiny gun and missed. Damn. The gun had a really short range. He’d
forgotten all about that.

“Small gun,
small range,” he mumbled, then laughed shakily. His life was becoming a litany
of catch phrases for handling weapons.

Maya coughed,
drawing his attention away from the second goon. “Get out.”

“I’m not leaving
you here, Maya.”

“Go,” she
insisted.

“I’m staying
here until we can move you. You have to trust me.”

“Do,” she said,
and passed out.

Pain exploded
through James’ jaw and he dropped the gun. The momentum of a punch carried him
backwards across Maya’s body, jostling Amelia in the process.

For the love of
God. They were in the middle of a mini-war zone. How could he have forgotten
that other goon?

Amelia scrambled
for the staff with bloody hands while the goon hoisted James up by two beefy
fists clasped in a punishing grip around his upper arms. She swung the staff
like a baseball bat, connecting with the goon’s back. The goon loosened his
hold on James. She arched back for another swing, and James wiggled, struggling
to get free. She swung again, solidly connecting with the goon’s back. He
dropped James and rounded on Amelia. She shuffled slowly backward, staff cocked
on her shoulder, her mouth set in a hard line.

James scrambled
along the ground for the gun, both eyes fixed on Amelia. Where was it, where
was it? His hand connected with metal and the gun skidded sideways. Damn it. He
glanced down, swiped it up, and launched himself across Maya’s prone form, jabbing
the gun into the other man’s back. The goon froze in mid-reach. Amelia swung, hitting
the hefty man in the jaw. His head popped around and he swayed. James shoved
his shoulder into the goon’s side, and the man fell, thumping into the concrete
floor.

James braced his
hands on his knees. “Good swing, honey. Maybe you should try out for softball
next year.”

Amelia wheezed
out a breath and her eyes went wide. “Dad, geez.”

“It’s just a
suggestion.” He held out his hand. “Give me the staff. I’ll hold off the goon
squad while you take care of Maya.”

He laid the gun
on the floor beside Amelia as she leaned over Maya, then stood guard over the
two of them with the staff cocked back over his shoulder in a two-handed grip.

Bodies littered
the floor, more than James remembered seeing as they walked in. Most were men, though
a few Daughters had fallen. At least a dozen conflicts were still raging
through the warehouse. Very few of the men had their guns out. James studied
them as he turned in slow circles. Empty holsters, guns well out of reach.
Right. They’d been disarmed.

A cold chill
slithered down his spine. He swung around and glimpsed a woman he’d never seen
before standing beside the table. She was small and delicate. Her hair hung
past her shoulders in a straight, black waterfall. She wore a knee-length
emerald lamé jacket over an incredibly short black sheath paired with black,
thigh-high boots. Her hands gently stroked the artifacts in the still-open
cases. She closed one of the cases and picked it up, then pivoted toward the
back entrance.

“Hey!” he said.

She stopped and
peered over her shoulder, a small smile on her beautiful mouth. She blew him a
kiss, and in two blinks, she was gone.

James dropped
his guard and stared at the spot where she’d been. She couldn’t have just
disappeared. Maybe he was hallucinating. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of
one palm and glanced around. Maya on the floor, Amelia hovering over her,
Daughters gleefully hacking at men with staffs and assorted weaponry. Nope, not
hallucinating, yet only two cases lay on the table.

Another goon
broke free from a Daughter and loped toward them. James swung the staff in a
circle, testing its weight. Time to make good on his promise to Maya.

People buzzed in
and out of the waiting room, doctors and nurses, police officers, those waiting
on loved ones. James, Amelia, and several Daughters huddled together out of the
way, waiting for Maya to come out of surgery. They’d brought her to the
Emergency Room on the pretext that she’d been mugged. Two officers had come by not
long after and taken statements. James had given them some totally made up
malarkey. Nobody would’ve believed the truth anyway.

And now they
waited as a surgeon attempted to remove the bullet where it had lodged against
Maya’s shoulder blade.

Daughters
trickled in and out of the waiting room, some sporting bruises and cuts, others
bandages or stitches. James had long ago lost track of their names. One brought
James coffee and Amelia juice, another brought sandwiches, still another
brought clean clothes. They’d both been grateful, especially Amelia. Maya’s
blood had soaked through her pants and part of her t-shirt, and had nearly
dried by the time they made it to the ER.

A number of
Daughters also brought updates. Lukas Alexiou and his man, Winstead, had
escaped with Dani to parts unknown. A team had been sent after them, primarily
to recover Dani. Director Upton had been updated and was apparently already on
her way to New York. Two cases of artifacts had been recovered at the warehouse
and securely stored in an unknown location.

James didn’t
mention the woman in the green coat. He still wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined
her, but if he hadn’t, the director was probably the first person who needed to
know about her.

They’d been
waiting two hours when a Daughter walked in and sat down beside James. She was
athletically slender with auburn hair and hazel-green eyes, and was dressed as
many of the other Daughters were in comfortable casual clothing. “Hello.”

God. Another
Daughter to remember. “Hi.”

“I’m Annette.
You must be James.”

James nodded,
hitching his thumb at his daughter. “Amelia.”

“Nice to meet
you.’

“Likewise.”

Slow humor
spread across her oval face. “You don’t know who I am.”

“Ah, no. So many
people have come in and out.”

She snickered.
“She must not’ve told you. I’m Maya’s eldest daughter.”

“Her eldest…”
James heart sank into his stomach. Maya had
promised
not to hold
anything else back from him. “Just how many of you are there?”

“Just me and
Dee.”

“Are you sure?
Because Maya’s surprises keep popping out of the damn closet with surprising
regularity.”

Annette patted
his arm. “She probably hasn’t had time to explain everything yet.”

James inhaled
sharply and rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, probably. A lot’s happened over the
last few days.”

They passed the
hours chatting, waiting for an update on Maya’s progress through surgery,
post-op, and then in recovery, no visitors allowed. James called his family,
letting them know Amelia was safe. Annette took a quick break to update Dierdre
on Maya’s condition. Amelia fell asleep, curled into a chair beside James with
her head propped on his shoulder. A familiar looking Daughter (Greta maybe?)
pulled out a deck of cards and started a game of no-stakes poker with several
others.

Talking with
Annette and watching the impromptu card game absorbed James’ attention, pushing
out the day’s events. Amelia’s tear-stained face as she took the cases of
artifacts from him. Dani tied to a chair, helpless. Maya shoving him out of the
way and taking a bullet for him, then laying in a pool of her own blood.

So much blood.

His stomach
twisted into a sick knot. She’d come so close to dying. He was sure, or as sure
as he was of anything, that the only thing separating Maya from death was the
curse.

The surgeon
pushed his way through the waiting crowd and discussed Maya’s prognosis with
them. Annette, as her official next of kin, took the lead, though she included
James and Amelia in the conversation. The surgeon emphasized Maya’s needed for
recovery time. A hysterical laugh bubbled up from James’ gut. Maya was
immortal. She had all the time she needed.

That night, she slipped
into a coma. The days passed slowly and her wound began to heal, but she didn’t
wake up. James and Amelia stayed at the hospital during the day, leaving only
to eat, sleep, clean up, and pass regular updates along to Dierdre. They took turns
reading to Maya or talked softly in the waiting room when the hospital staff
chased them out of her room. Annette slipped in and out frequently, as often as
duty allowed. Getting to know her had made their wait slightly more bearable.

A rotating team
of Daughters stayed with James and Amelia, acting as security while another
team protected Maya. Director Upton had expressed her deep concern that James
and Amelia were vulnerable, and he’d put up no resistance to the security
detail. He didn’t think he could stand having Amelia taken again.

A week after
Maya had been shot, James and Amelia sat at her bedside, Amelia reading, James
watching her. She’d closed herself off since the kidnapping. That couldn’t be
good. Didn’t she need to talk about it, maybe start coming to terms with what
had happened with her mom and everything else?

He crossed his
arms over his chest and cleared his throat. “Can we talk?”

Amelia glanced
up, smiling. “Sure. What’s up?”

“I thought maybe
we could talk about your mom.”

Her smile faded.
She marked her place in the book and tucked it into her lap. “Can’t we talk about
something else?”

“I know it’s
hard, sweetheart.” He reached across Maya’s body, holding his hand out to her.
“I know you miss her. It’s not good to bottle it all up inside.”

“I just don’t
wanna talk about it. I just don’t…” She sniffed and turned away. “I can’t.”

He sighed and
withdrew his hand. “Ok. I’m here if you need me, if you want to talk. I’ll
listen.”

She nodded and
closed her eyes. “Can I finish my book now?”

“Sure,
sweetheart.”

He slumped into
his chair and scrubbed a hand over his nape. Maybe she just needed more time.
Maybe when they had Linda’s funeral, Amelia would gain some kind of closure or
something, or maybe being back in Tellowee with Dierdre and her new friends
would help. At least she knew he was there for her, and that’s the only way he
could figure out to help her.

One day slipped
into the next with no real change in Maya’s condition. The hope James held that
she’d wake up began to fade. Sitting at her bedside gave him too much time to
think, about the things she’d told him, about that day at the warehouse. Was
there anything he could’ve done differently? If he’d known how to fight, would
Maya have pushed him out of the way and taken a bullet for him or would he be
the one laying there? If he’d accepted everything she’d told him, the People,
the curse, her own immortality, would that have changed the outcome?

Two weeks after
Maya’s injury, Director Upton had Maya transferred to a hospital near the IECS under
the care of a doctor with a broad experience in the People’s peculiar physiology.
James, Amelia, and Annette accompanied Maya back, along with a small staff of
nurses and the cadre of Daughters acting as security.

As soon as the
IECS’ private plane touched down in Gainesville’s airfield, James relaxed. They
were almost home. Here, he and Amelia could rebuild their lives in a safe
environment where nobody could get to them, and here, Maya would find the help
she needed. At least, he hoped she would.

* * *

Rebecca sat
behind her desk, waiting for the arrival of Dani’s FBI agent. The past few
weeks had been an uproar of activity and uncomfortable revelations. Important
artifacts had been found and then stolen. The Shadow Enemy had resurfaced,
headed by a man about whom the People knew very little. And a traitor lay in
their midst.

The latter had occupied
Rebecca’s thoughts through an uncounted number of sleepless nights, draining
her energy and sapping her strength. Still, she had to find a way to deal with
those events and the ones yet to come. Through it all, the People must survive.
That had always been her driving concern.

Her secretary
buzzed with the message that David Winstead had arrived. Rebecca studied him as
he entered, the broad shoulders and tall frame, the no-nonsense haircut, the
stony expression. He looked like a thug, moved like a dancer, and, from what
she could tell, had the strategic skills of a chess grandmaster.

A smile touched
her mouth. Yes, he would do nicely.

“Mr. Winstead.”
Rebecca stood and held out her hand, measuring his grip as he shook it.
“Welcome to the IECS. I trust you had a pleasant trip.”

“Pleasant
enough,” he said, his voice low and rough.

“Please, won’t
you sit?” She perched on the edge of her chair. “I appreciate your coming on
such short notice and breaking your former engagements to assist us.”

He dropped into
a chair in front of her desk. “Not like I had a choice.”

“Hopefully, our
business won’t take much of your time. I presume you’re still undercover with
Alexiou?” He nodded once, and she continued. “I’m curious. What excuse did you
give him for coming here?”

“Told him I was
coming after the girl.” He shrugged and one corner of his mouth tilted up in a
half smile. “Alexiou has a soft spot for women. Took a shine to Dani in
particular.”

Rebecca tamped
down her concern. Having the leader of the Shadow Enemy
take a shine
to
a Daughter could never be good.

A ruckus sounded
outside her door, and Rebecca sighed. Voices raised in anger, something banged
against the wall, and the doors to her office flew open, revealing a furious
Dani. Her gaze zeroed in on Dave and she froze. “You low-down steaming pile of
goat feces.”

“Dani!” Rebecca
said. “Mr. Winstead is a guest here.”

Dani inhaled a
long, slow breath and her hands unclenched. Her green eyes were bright, though,
and bored holes into the hapless agent’s broad shoulders.

“Please have a
seat, Dani. We have much work to do.”

Dani stalked to
a chair and flopped into it, her glare steady. Rebecca bit back a sigh. At
least her youngest hadn’t killed the poor man. What a public relations
nightmare that would be, and it would forever ruin the relationship Rebecca had
carefully cultivated with the director of the FBI.

She flattened
her palms on the surface of her desk. “I have several reports from Daughters
who were at the warehouse last week during the exchange. Only two cases of
artifacts were recovered. Mr. Winstead, by any chance is the third case in
Alexiou’s possession?”

“No, ma’am,” he
said flatly. “I left all three cases on the table when I took Dani and Lukas
out of harm’s way.”

“I would’ve been
better off if you’d left me there, you Neanderthal,” Dani hissed.

Rebecca sighed. “Dani,
please.”

“He threw me
over his shoulder and spanked me!”

Rebecca pursed
her lips, hiding a smile.

“And then he let
me ‘escape’ through a sewer. It ruined my favorite pair of boots.” She rounded
on Dave. “You’ll be paying for those, Ape Man.”

Dave’s stony
expression remained unchanged.

Dani slouched
into her chair, her pretty face set in a scowl. “My hair still smells like
sewage.”

And that was the
sticking point. Dani could be called many things, but vain she was not, except
when it came to her hair. Rebecca eyed the lustrous, golden curls. If it were
her, she’d be upset about the smell, too. That didn’t help the situation they
were in now, though.

“Let bygones be
bygones, daughter. We need to focus on tracking down the missing artifacts.”
Again. Would they never be able to hold all of them in one place? “Now, several
Daughters reported seeing a woman at the warehouse during the fight. One Daughter
thought this woman took the case.”

“No one
recognized her?” Dani asked, her voice almost calm.

“Unfortunately,
no. I was hoping Alexiou had electronic surveillance installed in the
warehouse.”

Dave nodded. “He
does. Shouldn’t be hard to gain access.”

“Thank you. All
I ask is that you not mention our involvement in your investigation.”

“If I can. Alexiou
wants the artifacts as much as you do. Pretty sure he’ll do what he has to to
get them back.”

“Of course,”
Rebecca said. “Any idea why?”

He lifted one
shoulder in a quick shrug. “Something about the Prophecy of Light.”

Rebecca sucked
in a breath. “What did he say about it?”

“He was never
really coherent when he talked about the prophecy,” Dave admitted. “Kept
mentioning a woman, though, and I got the feeling she was somehow tied to it.”

“Someone he
loved who betrayed him.” Dani shot a glare in Dave’s direction. “Alexiou talked
about that after Mr. Caveman here drugged me and tied me to a chair. Sadly, I
now know how it feels to be betrayed.”