Winter's Legacy: Future Days (Winter's Saga Book 6) (14 page)

28  Into the Water

Creed sped to the van so he could carry Margo’s broken body.  Danny was still in her arms when he yanked the door open.  

Maze leaped out of the car and pranced anxiously around them.  A low growl rumbled in his chest as he scanned the area for danger.  The silver fur between his strong shoulder blades stood on end and his ears rotated to track even the slightest rustling sound.  His black nose flared, measuring the scents around them.  Nothing was going to surprise attack them.  Maze had grown
-up just as battle-ready as the children he protected. 

“Dr. Winter,” Creed nodded respectfully before slipping his strong arms under her, lifting both mother and child carefully. 

“Thank you, Creed.  Theo would have tried, but he just isn’t as young as he used to be.”

“I heard that,” Theo called from the back of the van.  He was helping Farrow with Alik.

“No worries, ma’am.” Creed smiled at the little boy rousing in Margo’s lap. 

“We’re here!”  Danny’s voice was excited, though still breathy with sleep.  “I can smell the salt in the water.”  He inhaled deeply and smiled.

“Are you ready, Danny?”  Margo asked, trying not to sound as anxious as she felt. 

“Yes,” he grinned.  “When you get your legs back can we go for a bike ride together?”

Margo swallowed a lump in her throat and smiled. “One thing at a time, love.”

Maze ran ahead, sniffing the water’s edge while watching his family make their way toward him.  He quivered with excitement but instinctively knew not to bark.  Instead
, he crouched playfully low and leaped into the air with joy.  His silver coat was wet within moments.

Danny had been laughing at Maze but stopped to cran
e his neck around to see the others hurrying to follow.  “We’re all here together,” his voice chirped happily.  “All except my sister.  I wish Meggie were here, too, Mommy.”

“We all do, little man,” Creed winced at the sharp pain that jabbed him in the heart at the sound of her name.  He could shut off his physical pain, but nothing could soothe his emotional pain—nothing except his dark-eyed angel.  He took a deep, shu
ddering breath.

“Are we too heavy?” Margo was watching Creed’s face.

“As light as a feather, ma’am.” He forced himself to smile for her sake.

His next step kicked salt water into the night sky.   

***

Sloan had already unfastened the girl’s seat
belt, more aware than anyone of the precious few moments Kylie had left.  Evan yanked the back door open and caught Kylie’s body as she started to slip from the car. 

The moment his left hand touched her skin, he saw an image flash in his mind’s eye
—an image of her future.  He only saw her ashen face, blue lips and green eyes staring up at him.  She was floating in the dark water, her blond hair undulating just beneath the surface. 

He shook his head free of the horrific mental picture and ran, as fast as his exhausted legs would carry them, toward the water.   “Stay with me, Kylie.” His words were choppy as he ran, but he kept talking anyway.  “Don’t die on me!  Fight to stay with me!  C’mon, I know you feel something for me—you will
NOT
die so I can live. 
You can’t!
  We have too much growing up to do!”  His voice hitched with emotion.  “Who else is going to make me eat breakfast and teach me to look at ‘both sides of the coin’?  Come on Kylie!  I don’t give my jacket to just any girl!”  His foot splashed into the water, but he didn’t stop running until it was waist deep and he was standing beside his little brother and mom.

“She’s very sick, Danny,” Evan panted.  He didn’t want to scare Danny, but he needed a miracle to happen now.  Kylie’s body floated easily in the water but Evan still kept both arms wrapped around her, willing her to feel him there.

***

The others arrived moments later.  Alik instinctively s
ank into the water to relieve his burning skin, but had resurfaced, still blinded and coughing.  Farrow held his arm gently.

Cole was scary quiet, still leaning heavily on Sloan.  Theo and Margo quietly worried he was suffering internal bleeding from the looks of his ghostly pale skin.

Theo had taken Margo from Creed as her buoyancy in the salty water made her very light.  He held her carefully, her dead legs bobbing uselessly to the side. 

Creed knelt in the water so Danny could stand on his knee, half submerged.  The family formed a loose circle and waited. 

They looked expectantly at the four-year-old.  Danny just grinned.

“Don’t worry
.  Everything is going to be just fine.  You’ll see.”  He reached out to hold Margo’s hand to his left and touched Evan’s arm to his right. “We all need to hold hands.  It’ll work better like that,” he explained.

Once everybody was touching and the circle was formed, Danny bowed his head.  He leaned down so his Cupid’s bow lips nearly kissed the surface of the rippling, black water.  With eyes closed, he began to whisper.  His voice was soft and melodic and though no one could make out his words, everybody sensed a quiet confidence in the little boy with blond
e curls.  All eyes watched the littlest Winter hopefully. 

Moments later, from the shoreline, Maze’s powerful, sharp barks pierced the quiet of the night. 

29  Numbers in the Sky

Dawn’s majestic awakening spilled oranges, yellows and reds into the passenger windows of the private jet cutting its way northeast toward Pennsylvania. 

Donovan Arkdone squinted with disgust at the painted sky and slammed the shade down over it.

Adrian Roth, the Senator’s campaign manager, paced stiffly up and down the short aisle, his phone crammed against his ear to hear over the roar of the jet.  Arkdone glared at him, arms crossed in his plush leather chair.  He hated waiting.

His servant, Ermos, had only stepped out of the main cabin to prepare the Senator’s breakfast.

Finally, Roth swept his finger across the screen and dropped the phone into the breast pocket of his perfectly tailored dress shirt.

His expression was
vague as he hurried to take the seat across from his boss.

“Sir, I just wanted to be sure of its validity before I shared this data with you.”

“And?”

“And I just got confirmation.”  He felt around his pant pocket and fished out a black notepad.

“Enough grandstanding!”  Arkdone snapped.  “What have you found out?”

Both men ignored Ermos as he rolled a galley cart arranged with
gold-plated dishes—gourmet pieces fit for royalty.   Ermos stood respectfully to the side of the cart, awaiting further orders.  His loyal but simple mind was only concerned with anticipating the Senator’s needs and meeting those needs efficiently. The conversation between Roth and Arkdone continued uninterrupted. 

“Going in to the Brisbee Benefit your numbers were solid.  You were slated to win with sixty-eight percent of the votes.  Sixty-eight percent!  That would have hur
tled you across the winning line easily.”

“What are you saying, Roth?”

“Something must have happened at the benefit.  Something big enough to sway forty-one percent of the room away from you!”

The creases in Arkdone’s brow deepened when he narrowed his eyes as though trying to see the answer through fog.

“Sir, our pollsters performed the standard follow-up calls to the constituents last night checking each for confirmation of their vote.  They responded to our questions with the same two excuses.”

Arkdone’s eyes started to widen as realization began to set in, though he said nothing.

“When asked why they chose not to cast their votes for Senator Donovan Arkdone they either said,” he flipped open the notepad still in his hand and quoted, “‘He’s not the best choice for our party or for our country.’ That was the first response.  The second was, “Not Arkdone.  He’s not worthy of my vote’.”

“Meg!”
he shouted.

“Meg Winter?  What
has she to do with—”

“Damn her!”
Arkdone flew from his seat, eyes wild with uncontainable rage.
“She’s responsible for this!”
The senator raked his fingers through his hair and held his head in a vise grip.  His face was blood red, mouth opened wide in a silent scream.  He shook with fury as a stream of obscenities flew from his mouth like vomit.

“How the hell did I not sense her doing it? Shit how did she do that anyway?  To influence an entire crowd of people? 
I had no idea she was so powerful!
  She must have worked the entire room, Roth!  I bet she even said those exact words in her message!  ‘Not Arkdone!  She TOLD them not to vote for me!”

Another slew of incoherent expletives punctuated his tirade and continued for a full five minutes
while the senator punched the cabin wall repeatedly.  So powerful were his strikes, he managed to crack the shell enough to worry Roth about the integrity of the cabin pressure.  

The senator stood huffing ragged, angry breaths.  His head leaned against the cracked wall, hands stretched on either side of him, palms flat, as though he was about to be searched for weapons.  The knuckles on his right hand were ripped up and bleeding but unnoticed by the crazed man still muttering to himself between breaths.

A few moments passed and Roth thought to try talking rationally. 

“Are you saying that girl
can execute some sort of mass hypnosis?  That she manipulated the outcome of the votes by influencing a hundred people?”

“You saw the footage from Flagstaff,” Arkdone moaned miserably.

“Well, yeah, but that was just a handful of soldiers.  We’re talking about at least a hundred people, milling around, drinking, talking, dancing. Is that even
possible?
”

“It was her.”  His forehead still pressed against the wall, he shook his head.  “It makes sense now.  That’s why she was unconscious with a bloody nose when Sirus brought her to the limo last night.  She hadn’t been drinking.  She had been exhausted from using her psychic abilities.”

He pushed himself away from the wall and looked down at his right hand with perplexed expression, as though he hadn’t noticed the pain until that moment.  As he made his way back to his seat, Roth watched him flex his hand and grimace from the effort.  He slumped into his seat and pushed it into a reclining position. 

Ermos, who hadn’t moved an inch during his controller’s tirade, discreetly exited the main cabin to hurry back to the galley.  He yanked opened the ice machine and grabbed a handful,
plucked a cloth napkin free from the utensils wrapped inside and shook it open.

“Can I help you, sir?” The dowdy flight attendant looked down her nose at Ermos, obviously resentful at being ousted from her duties by Arkdone’s personal servant. 

“Yes.  My master requires Scotch.”

“
Scotch?”

“And Miss, if
it’s in those tiny bottles, please bring as many as you can carry.”

“Of course sir,” she raised her brow but went about opening a locked cabinet.  Ermos passed her an empty ice bucket encouraging her to fill it with the bottles. 

Ermos exited the cramped space with the ice wrapped in the cloth napkin.  He approached the Senator warily.  He had seen his master angry before, but he’d never known him to lose his cool as he did just then.  Not sure what would happen next, Ermos bowed and silently held the ice pack out to Arkdone.  

The senator had been lean
ing back, looking up at the ceiling of the cabin with intensity, eyes darting as though he were studying a picture only he could see.  He didn’t even acknowledge Ermos’ outstretched hand.

“Sir?  For your hand?  To help with the swelling,” he spoke in shorthand, not wanting to set his master off again.

Arkdone’s eyes closed briefly before he righted his chair and glowered at the memory of Meg’s angelic face. 

Adrian Roth had poured himself a glass of orange juice and was staring out one of the windows.  His Machiavellian mind was still plotting ten steps ahead in multiple directions.  Roth turned around when Ermos entered the room and watched the Senator absently take the ice pack and hold it to his cut up hand. 

“Well played, Meg.  Well played.   Clearly, our deal is off,” Arkdone’s black eyes flashed with unrestrained hatred. 

He nodded slowly to himself and as he did a slow smile crept across his strikingly handsome face.

The ice made a soft clinking sound as Arkdone set the bundle aside and reached into his pocket to pull out his phone.  Forcing the fingers on his right hand to work, he swept the screen alive and typed five digits.

M-M-9-1-1

“It’s time to call everyone in,” Arkdone muttered.

“Sir?” Ermos bowed subserviently.

“My slaves, dear Ermos.  I have a task for them—all of them.”

He listened to the familiar clicks as the system linked him to every metamonarch he had ever created, scattered strategically around the world.  When the series of clicks indicated a connection to the universal voice message board, Arkdone recited a line Roth recognized from Shakespeare: “‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here.  Return immediately to the asylum and await further instructions.’”

He disconnected the call, replaced his phone into his pocket and retrieved the ice pack. 

“Ermos, contact whoever it was you left in charge of household duties and tell them to make ready all living quarters. 
We’ll have a reunion the likes of which our hospital’s never seen.”

“As you wish, sir.”  Ermos backed out of the cabin.  He had a phone call to make.

The flight attendant scuttled into the room and looked worriedly at the cracked wall but was smart enough not to say a word as she moved toward the Senator with a glass full of Scotch.  She set it carefully beside him before backing out of the main cabin herself.

Arkdone reached for the drink and threw it back, swallowing half the glass in one gulp.  “She sees it as a gift, but I see it as a weakness.  She can’t use her psychic influence on me at all and when she tries to use it on others,” an image of the bloody-faced, unconscious girl from last night flashed in his mind, “it bleeds her energies dry—leaving her absolutely vulnerable.”

He tossed back the rest of his drink.  “Let’s see how long she lasts with three dozen metamonarchs.”  A wicked smile slipped across his handsome face.