Always a Wanderer Page 15

  “This isn’t going to work, Ben. They’re onto you.” John readjusted his tie. “Look, I can get you the gypsy by the end of the day. Then you can do what you wish with her. She’s more powerful than she realizes. You can keep her, kill her, or use her for her powers. It’s up to you. But think about all the things you could achieve if you had a woman with you who could see into the future—I mean, look around you. She put this exodus into motion.”

  “Why would I want to work with one of those mutants?” He spat the word.

  “Benjamin, you’d be stupid to kill for short-term gain instead of looking at what kind of long-term asset she could be for your organization. Plus, she’s smart and a pretty little thing. You could even take her as a wife, or lover.”

  “Why would I want something like her as a lover?”

  John sent the man a wicked smile. “Sometimes the things we profess to hate are the things we are most afraid of—and there is no better way to conquer your fear than by making it submit.”

  Benjamin stood in silence for a moment. “What if I’m not happy with her services, or if she refuses me?”

  “Like I said,” John answered. “It’s up to you what you do with her. But if you need to motivate her, I recommend you go after her family. The only thing that gypsy seems to give two shakes about are her siblings and her father before he died.”

  “That was a smart play of yours. To kill him.”

  “I wanted to show you that I was serious. That I didn’t want you interfering with my business.”

  What the feck was his stepfather talking about? Had he killed Seamus just to make more money or make up for Neill’s death? It didn’t make sense.

  The door on the far side of the break room opened and Giorgio was shoved inside. “This guy was nosing around,” a burly man said, pushing a gun into Giorgio’s back. A drop of blood dripped down Giorgio’s nose and rolled over his lip; he wiped it from his face with the back of his hand. “Watch out, he’s a fighter.”

  Two other men, both dressed in black, came in and stood guard beside the door of the break room.

  “Giorgio? What are you doing?” John asked. “I told you to stay out of things.”

  “Sir, what you’re doing, it’s wrong. You should’ve stayed away from these men.”

  “And you shouldn’t have made the comings and goings at the manor your business, like I told you.” John’s voice was threatening. “Do you realize the kind of danger that you’ve put yourself in? And for what? You were one of our best guards.”

  The burly man who’d pushed Giorgio inside looked toward them, and a smile crossed over his face.

  Shite.

  Graham let go of the door and grabbed Helena’s hand. “Get out of here! Go. They can’t get their hands on you.”

  As he turned to run, the door flew open behind them and a black-suited guard rushed in.

  “We have them, Mr. Poole.”

  Graham pushed Helena toward the opposite door, but as she reached it, it opened, and revealed another man in black.

  They were trapped.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “WHAT ARE YOU ABOUT, John?” Graham asked, pulling at the restraints that held him pinned to the chair at the large wooden table at the center of the break room.

  “Don’t fight this, Graham,” John said, giving him a shake of the head in warning as he motioned toward Benjamin and the men who surrounded him.

  Mr. Poole sat at the head of the table, tapping away on his mobile phone, and finally he looked up. “It looks as though we are going to be able to work with your offer, John. We’ll take your girl here.” He gave Helena a wink that made her skin crawl.

  She could only imagine what they had planned for her, but based on the look he was currently giving her, she wouldn’t enjoy any of it.

  A few days ago, she had thought she had been trapped in her life with Graham. Yet now—sitting here, at the mercy of her enemies—she understood what it meant to be truly trapped.

  She glanced over at Graham.

  She hadn’t been trapped. No, she had always been in love. Maybe it hadn’t been all roses and love songs, but she loved him. She’d always loved him. If only she hadn’t been a fool and fought it—how different things could have been.

  “You can have the gypsy, but I’m going to need my stepson. I wouldn’t be able to explain his absence to his mother. Things between us are a bit tense without me surrendering him to your organization.”

  “Trouble in the henhouse?” Mr. Poole said with a smirk.

  Any gobshite who called a woman a hen made Helena instinctively want to punch them. She had been scared, but as the man continued to speak, the fear disappeared and was quickly overtaken by rage.

  “You can take him. Get along. I want a little alone time with this fine thing.” The man licked his lips like he was trying to taste her on his skin, and the action only enraged her further.

  Up until now, she hadn’t understood the expression seeing red, but looking at him now, with his big, fat, puffed face, red seemed to seep into her field of vision from all sides.

  John motioned for Giorgio to take Graham’s chair. “Grab him. Let’s go. And you and I will talk later about your job.”

  Giorgio frowned at Mr. Shane, but he didn’t say anything; instead, he grabbed the back of Graham’s chair and wheeled it toward the door. As he passed by, he leaned down and said, just loud enough for her to hear, “I’ll be back. Just hold them off as long as you can.”

  She gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  “Want to share that with everyone?” Mr. Shane spat.

  Giorgio turned back to face the man. “I just told her she was going to be getting exactly what she deserved, being a gypsy and all.”

  She’d always liked Giorgio, but her feelings for him grew. Mr. Shane had him all wrong, especially if he thought he could use him to do harm.

  Mr. Shane’s lips pulled into a thin, malicious smile as he looked over at her. “I’m sure it comes as no surprise, gypsy girl, but from the moment Graham first talked about bringing you into our lives, I’ve been against you. The mere thought of you and your dirty, thieving kind in my house makes me hang my head in shame. Your kind is nothing but a scourge upon the earth. You are nothing more than tinkerers and thieves. The world would be a better—and safer—place without people like your family.”

  “I always knew ya were half a bubble off true, but now I know for sure. Take a look around, ya pompous eejit,” she seethed. “It is you and your entitled, self-absorbed, elitist chancers who are the problem. You can all be bought for the right price. The same can’t be said of my kind. We care about our families, our people, and staying connected to our culture.”

  Graham looked over at her and shook his head, reminding her of exactly how precarious their position was. They could be killed in an instant, but she didn’t care. If they were going to be killed, she wanted to go out after saying her piece.

  Mr. Poole laughed. This time the sound came from his belly, like he actually thought she was trying to be funny.

  “Do ya thinkin’ I’m puttin’ ya on?” she continued. “If ya think you’re going to lay one of your pudgy, manky fingers on me I’ll stick it so far up your—”

  “You have spirit; I’ll give you that. But you would be wise, Helena, to shut your mouth,” Mr. Poole said. His words were laced with explosive potential so strong that she bit her tongue to keep herself from speaking. “Do you understand, girl?”

  The word “girl,” and the way the man said it, reminded her of her mam. She didn’t think it was possible for the man to make her hate him more than she already did, but once again he surprised her.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but Graham spoke first. “Aye, she understands.” He pulled against the restraints that tied his wrists to the black plastic armrests. “And you better fecking understand that if anything happens to her, I will make it my mission to track down every member of the HG and personally slit each of their throats. I’ll save you for l
ast, and when I get to you, I will cut off your bollocks and feed them to you one at a time, so help me Jaysus.”

  “Get him out of here,” Mr. Shane ordered Giorgio.

  Giorgio pushed him from the room, but before the door slipped closed, Mr. Poole called after them, “Idle threats from an idle boy. If you weren’t so daft, you would learn how to handle yourself like a man by watching your stepfather.”

  The door shut, but she caught a glimpse of Graham’s face, red, sweating, and enraged.

  “Why don’t you go with your son?” Mr. Poole said, pointing after them. “And let him know that I’m not one for threats. Those who say things like that to me have a very short shelf life.”

  “Don’t take anything he says right now too seriously. Like you said, he’s young and stupid.” Mr. Shane rushed after Graham, leaving Helena alone with Mr. Poole.

  At least they hadn’t tied her down as they had with Graham. They must have thought he would be more likely to fight, but Mr. Poole had sorely underestimated her if he thought she was going to go down without taking a swing at him.

  Mr. Poole stood up and gave her his most disgusting smile. “Now, about you, me, and our little arrangement...” He walked around the table and stopped a few feet from where she sat.

  She dug her fingers into the chair’s armrest so hard she thought her fingernails might pop off.

  “Ya can go to hell, ya dirty bastard.” She spat at his feet.

  “Now, now, you little banshee. You don’t have to hate me.”

  “Yes, I do. I’ll always despise small-minded, self-righteous bigots.”

  “Sometimes the things we must sell to others we don’t always feel in our hearts.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  He looked toward the door as if making sure it was closed. “I know you aren’t like the rest—you may spit words with the power of hellfire, but I doubt you would have the willpower to hurt. You’re too soft. And if you’re as smart as John says you are, you’ll remember that I’m far better than any thieving little gypsy like you. You will remember your place—or you’ll die.”

  “There are far more non-Travellers than Travellers who are thieves. You’re a right shite to think you’re better than me.”

  “I don’t think that I’m better than you. I know it.” He leaned against the table and crossed his arms over his chest as he peered down at her. “But that’s neither here nor there. I’m here for something more than chatting you up with the advantages and pitfalls of our pasts.”

  “If you’re gonna kill me, I’d appreciate—”

  “You’re more use to me alive. However, if you choose to continue being cheeky, I may begin to see things differently. I’m sure my followers would love to see a clairvoyant gypsy swing from a tree.” He tapped his fingers against his fat arm.

  He slithered into the seat next to hers and, reaching over, put his hand on her thigh. “But regardless of what my followers may wish to happen to you, I want to think about the possible benefits you could bring me and my organization. As you may or may not know, I’m trying to open chapters around the world. John was right. Learning more about your people and your kind would be a great asset for us.”

  “I’m not going to help ya hurt the people I love.” She put her hand on her thigh, stopping his fingers from tiptoeing any farther up.

  He took her movement as an invitation and took hold of her hand. She tried to pull away, but his hand tightened on hers like a vise.

  “I want you...” He stared at her chest, and sucked on his bottom lip. “To willingly join us. But unwillingly may be fine as well.”

  “Why would I ever do such a stupid thing?” She wiggled her fingers, trying to loosen his grip, but he only held on tighter.

  “It’s far from stupid. In fact, it’s probably the smartest thing you could possibly do. My organization can be a safe haven for you. A war is coming. A war against all supernatural beings. Mr. Shane was smart enough to join our side. You should as well, as there are others, powerful others, who want nothing more than to kill every last one of you.”

  “If they want me dead, why would I join you, or them?”

  “I could promise you, and your family, safety. What we have planned—this hospital, it was only the start. It was going to be the first feather in our cap. Luckily for you, Mr. Shane is a savvy man. A man who knows how to pick his battles—and the winning side.”

  “What exactly did he do?”

  Mr. Poole laughed, and finally, as he leaned back, he let go of her hand. She opened and closed it, trying to let the blood flow back into her fingertips.

  “He took a deal to try to stop himself and his manor from becoming the epicenter of the HG’s movement.”

  “What deal?”

  “We offered him and his hospital immunity in exchange for the equestrian center. It works well as our regional offices, and we know about the veil.”

  She shuddered. If they knew about the veil, then they must know far more than he was admitting.

  “Why were you going after him and this place if you had a treaty?” she asked, motioning to the room around them.

  “It is his fault that we are known. Our agreement stated that the HG were to not be exposed, but then your eejit father, Seamus, killed Neill.”

  She didn’t believe him. She couldn’t. Her father was imperfect, but he wouldn’t kill a man. Benjamin Poole was a liar.

  He looked at her, seeming to wait for a reaction. When she didn’t say anything, his face fell slightly.

  That must be his thing. He must be the kind of man who got pleasure from bringing others pain. She shouldn’t have been surprised.

  “As you heard, Mr. Shane thought he’d make amends by killing your father.”

  “My father didn’t kill Neill. He wouldn’t.”

  “He knew who Neill was. When he found out we’d planted him so close to you...I think he believed he could get away with it.” He reached up and pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear. She moved away from his fingertips, but it didn’t stop him, and he drew his finger down her cheek. “I wish none of this had happened, but if anything, it’s turned out for the best. Now I have you.”

  “Ya don’t have me.” She recoiled from him.

  “I heard your father had a bit of a gift for the forshaw as well. Is that true?”

  Da had been one of the two-spirits, but how could the man have known? Who had told him about their family and their abilities? What else did Poole know that he wasn’t telling her?

  “I don’t know what my father could or couldn’t do.”

  Poole laughed. “You don’t need to keep your cards so close to your chest. Let’s just say that I’m a businessman. I don’t invest my money or my time into anything until I’m well-versed in its profitability.”

  Of course he didn’t. She glared at him. “If you think that you can use me, then you haven’t done your homework. I don’t care what you want me to do or what empty promises you make. I’ll never help you or your group.” Her thoughts moved to the bomb. If she didn’t help him, would he detonate it? Was he just waiting until they moved all the patients back inside? What if he had made a promise to Mr. Shane that he didn’t intend on keeping?

  “Think about what you are saying, girl. Think of all the things I can offer you. Think about your family. You need to protect them—whether or not you realize it.”

  “Where’s the bomb, Benjamin?”

  He smiled, and the action was far more dangerous than any of the words coming from his mouth.

  “It must be nice to see the future,” he said.

  “The only vision I had was of me killing you. Maybe if ya tell me the truth, I won’t have to,” she said. “Tell me where I can find the bomb.”

  “Work with me. Agree, and I will have it disarmed and dropped at your feet as a peace offering. You have my word.”

  “Tell me where the bomb is.”

  Mr. Poole laughed. “Sometimes, when you look too hard, you miss what is sitting r
ight in front of you.”

  She had no idea what he meant, but she was growing tired of the maggot. “You’re the scum of the earth.”

  As the last syllable slipped from her lips he moved to stand and, grabbing her by the arm, jerked her to her feet. He bent her over the table and moved to unbutton his pants before she was even aware of what he was planning.

  “I like things that I have to fight for,” he said, leaning in until his hot, onion-scented breath washed over the back of her neck.

  He held her down with his hand in the middle of her back, but she kicked upward. Her foot connected perfectly with his disgusting body. He groaned and reached for his groin. As he moved, she hurried toward the door. Before she reached it, he grabbed her by the arm.

  Heat and energy moved up from her feet and through her body, making her core temperature rise faster and hotter than ever before. It felt as though there were a fire licking up her legs and moving under her skin, but instead of hurting, it made her feel all-powerful and unstoppable.

  She reached up and took his face in her hands. His eyes opened wide, and he yelped with pain as the heat from her fingers seared his skin. Blisters formed on his cheeks as the power moved through her and into him.

  He tried to speak, but his tongue swelled and filled his mouth, choking him and making his words come out as sputtering, muffled, pained sounds.

  Instead of letting go, she pressed her hands harder against his skin, until she could feel the bones of his face underneath her fingertips as his flesh burned away and she watched the life leave his body. She was not soft. When it came to those who wanted to hurt the ones she loved, she was willing to kill.

  His skin sizzled under her fingers.

  She found comfort in the knowledge that the pain he felt at her hands would be nothing compared to the fiery depths of hell.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “YOU CAN’T GO BACK IN there. It’s not safe,” Giorgio said, cutting the tape off of Graham’s wrists. “Helena’s okay.”

  Graham could hear the lie in the guard’s tone.