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Fan sat facing me as she double-checked all her scuba gear. I was in the rear of our raft manning the amazingly quiet, electric outboard motor. We wouldn’t break any speed records, but lights on the shore ahead grew at a respectable pace.
I still ground my teeth in anxiety—I just didn’t grind them into pulpy anxiety. That’s a win, right?
“Thanks,” I said.
Fan looked up from a gauge on one of her wrists. In the moonlight, there was stark wonder in her brown eyes. “For?”
“You know. For doing this. For helping me get this far...for helping Vicki.” I realized I sounded sappy as the words left my mouth, but it was too late.
Fan’s eyebrows lifted. She looked pleased. “You’re welcome.”
I had a sudden pang. (Or a stomachache.) I looked across the low blanket of gray mist that surrounded our raft. A parting gift from Silana.
“Ouch!” I almost shouted but caught myself in time. Fan had not so gently kicked me in my shin. I looked back at her, then shrugged a big shrug.
“Don’t get soft on me now, hero.” Fan smiled. “We’ll get this done.” She adjusted her scuba tank harness and weight belt. “You’ve got a gig on Friday night, right? I plan on bringing a date.”
“You...” Hey, of course she had a life. “All right. I get your point. Don’t sweat me.” I waited for proper impact. “What’s her name?”
Fan’s mouth dropped open.
“Oh, I see. You think just because a girl likes to play with guns...” She put a hand on the knife on her belt. “Be very careful what you say next, Yang Guizi,” she said, but—to my relief—she was still smiling.
“Yeah. That must be it. I can’t read people at all.”
I received another kick in the shin, but not as hard as the first.
“I haven’t decided who to ask...but maybe now it’ll be a dude. I don’t need you hitting on my date,” Fan whispered.
Chuckling, I pushed Fan’s two feet with one of my own. I sighed, looked down at my GPS, and whispered back, “We’re getting close. Under a kilometer.” It was ten forty-four in the evening.
Fan adjusted one of her wrist gauges, the one I assumed monitored her own GPS tracker, kept safe inside her wetsuit. “Close enough for me.” She reached up for her diving mask but stopped and looked at me again. “Break a leg,” she said and then slid her goggles over her eyes.
“Break a leg,” I replied. I shut off the motor, then we waited a minute for the raft to slow down. I stuck an oar in the water to halt forward progress, first on the left side of the raft, then the right.
Fan pushed her buttocks up onto the nose of the raft, placed her oxygen regulator in her mouth then gave me a thumbs up. She dropped backward, leaving nothing more than a light splash to mark her entry point.
I compensated for the loss in weight from the raft by leaning forward, and while I did, I stretched my neck and looked for any sign of Fan.
Her head popped up out of the lake to my left and made me jump. She waved, then disappeared again under the water. I checked my GPS. Her dot blinked northeast toward shore. I didn’t need to be an expert to see she was a strong swimmer.
I watched, waited another minute, just in case, then I started up the outboard again. I tapped the comm on my left ear. “I’m heading to shore.”
“Affirmative,” Sophie replied.
***
BEACHES AND SHALLOWS around Lake Tahoe are covered with boulders, rocks, and millions of pebbles. In the dark, using no artificial light to guide me, I might have had serious trouble maneuvering safely to shore. I could have gotten hung up on a dead tree or punctured the raft on a rocky outcrop jutting from the lake bottom. But the bright, full moon in the sky, combined with clear weather, made my approach uneventful.
That didn’t keep a small splash from snapping my head around as I came within a hundred yards of shore. I caught sight of a trout breaking the crystal-clear surface before diving back under.
“Damn fish. Has to eat. And scare the fuck outta me,” I grumbled.
Tall trees loomed beyond the dark beach, rising steadily in rows, up, up the low mountainside. It was beautiful.
I cut the outboard and paddled at the destination Sophie had set for me. There were no docks, buildings, or people anywhere ahead. As far as I could tell, anyway. Lights on the shoreline freckled the beach for a mile in both directions, but where I was rowing, there was only unadulterated forest and rocks. Sophie had assured me—and she had the telescopic night vision.
Sophie was waiting on Conrad and Silana’s hidden speedboat. She said it would be safer for her to avoid flying until absolutely necessary, and it would conserve her battery power. She’d fully recharged on the boat and would be good for half a day in the air according to Conrad, but Sophie had learned her caution from her father.
I didn’t know Dad long enough to learn much caution. Or much else. Shit, if it wasn’t for photographs, I’d hardly remember what he looked like.
Funny the thoughts that go through your mind when you’re putting yourself in mortal danger.
I paddled quietly as I neared the beach. Crabs along the shore scuttled for cover, their shadows dancing across pebbles and rocks. Then the bottom of my raft struck lakebed. I stood, waded into inches of water, and stepped out onto the soft sand, quickly towing my raft up and out of the moonlight.
I lifted the raft up onto a rise of forest beyond the sand, tucked it beneath a fir tree, and covered it with leaves and fallen branches. After a minute of listening to make sure I was still alone, I marked the GPS location and crept up the slope of the mountain until it enveloped me in darkness.
“I’m...in position,” I said. I was still getting used to military lingo.
“Roger,” Sophie replied.
The plan was to wait for confirmation from Fan before I headed toward Serenity Mere. So, I waited.
For what seemed like forever.
I let out a sigh of relief when Fan’s voice finally broke the silence. “I’m ready,” she said. “It’s all clear.”
“Excellent,” Sophie said. “All clear here, too. No more boat traffic, and I see only a handful of people near the docks between you.” Sophie paused. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. Moving,” I replied.
“Same,” Fan said.
Our plan was simple on the surface of it. I’d climb up the mountain and avoid detection until I could get eye contact on the party attendees. At that point, I would have to figure out a way to infiltrate the event. In my mind that meant any avenue that could make me invisible in plain sight.
I’d become one of the help. Preferably a musician. Otherwise, I’d improvise.
Fan was my watcher...my guardian angel. She had to get to a high point undetected, then cover me, while keeping eyes on the exterior of the Serenity Mere compound. If things got hot, she’d clear a safe path for me and Vicki. A deadly one.
I recalled the iron look in Fan’s eyes and pitied any enemies who might get in my way.
***
MOVING THROUGH TREES in the dark is dirty business. I wasn’t used to it, and I’m not built for stealth, but my sharp eyes helped. Sometimes my other senses too, but I still tripped more than once as I followed the path marked on my GPS. I got a good scratch on the forehead from a dead tree branch, what could have easily meant an eyeball lost. That slowed me down—and I wished there had been an extra pair of night vision goggles in Conrad’s bag of tricks.
Ultimately though, it didn’t matter. I kept going. Up and over the Tahoe basin toward the acres of Serenity Mere—and, God willing, Victoria.
“I’ve found a good line of sight to the objective,” Fan said. She meant the mansion. “Taking up position. Copy?”
“I copy. Still moving. Getting close.” I’d had no big problems so far. So far.
My destination was a long drive up to the front of the mansion where Sophie had recorded the costumed guests arriving. I could see the lights ahead through the tree branches, distant and blinking from the gentle bobbing and swaying of a multitude of leaves and pine needles in between.
I grimaced and pushed on. Things were getting interesting.
I sensed people ahead of me. No music in my ears, nobody in sight, and yet I definitely knew—for sure—that there were human beings near those distant lights.
There was a tingling and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I froze, stopped breathing and listened, but nobody jumped out of the woods. I looked down...up, expecting something, someone to be there, to explain my sudden awareness. But only the Moon was with me, shining over me, as if saying, Yes, it’s me. Your only friend now.
That odd thought became a revelation. I had the unquenchable understanding that in some way I couldn’t explain, it was the Moon boosting my empathic ability.
Son of a bitch.
I didn’t dwell on it for long, attributing it instead to a mixture of adrenaline, fatigue, and good old-fashioned worry. It wasn’t as if I could control the Moon.
And that kept me from believing I was going crazy.
I grabbed a handful of tree roots growing through the dirt slope in front of me, then pulled myself up the mountainside with greater intensity.
I wasn’t rock climbing on the inside of the basin, but it was difficult going in some spots. My size and strength—and my leather half-gloves—made my trek across the terrain manageable, but slow.
Next time, bring a grapnel. And take mountain-climbing lessons.
Some chattering critters hidden in the trees kept me company. Probably raccoons laughing at my awkward climbing technique. I didn’t know if there were raccoons around Lake Tahoe, but this Texas boy wanted to assume so. What would be the alternatives? Gibbering demons fat on the bone marrow of some tourists and fishermen?
I kept following my GPS path, every so often checking my tracker to make sure I wasn’t veering off course again. And I veered often. At night. In the woods. In the dark.
Up ahead I saw brighter lights. And a big shadow of...a spooky mansion...
I tabbed the comm. “Hey. I see Serenity, I think.”
“Good,” Sophie replied. “Now be very careful. They’ve been sloppy with ground security so far. Not even a single laser trip...or wire fence. So, I expect the compound will be walled and too high to scale without gear.”
I peered at the giant silhouette up the long rise ahead of me, and a series of angular rooftops poked above flat walls.
“You nailed it. Walled. Looks like it’s cresting a big hill,” I said.
“Yes, too big. Even for you,” Fan injected, in typical Fan fashion. “I see movement on roofs and balconies. There’s flat space on the tops, men with rifles...architect did his job.”
“How many heat signatures?” Sophie asked.
“Count ten outside the mansion. Two on the roofs. Probable snipers. The rest...could be anyone. I see masks on a few, but this vantage point is not ideal.” Fan paused. “I’m estimating a half-dozen guards around the place, with an equal amount inside.”
“Just a dozen? Is that all?”
“Keep going, Songbird.” That was my handle for the mission. Fan was Hawk. She chose the names. Sky was Sophie’s. “I’ve got you covered.”
“I’ve placed a new waypoint, Songbird,” Sophie said. “Make your way around to the southeast of the compound. There’s a small house and some docks on the private lake. You should be able to make your way to the mansion from there, but move quickly to the water’s edge first. Use any embankment along the beach to give you defilade.”
“Defi-what?” I added French lessons to my bucket list.
“Cover,” Fan said.
“Roger.” Of course. “I’m moving.”
I trudged through fir trees on my right and tried my best to walk flatfooted like an Apache. I’d heard that somewhere before and, I’ll be damned, it works. No heel-toe and your enemies will never hear you coming.
And evergreen trees don’t drop crunchy leaves, so that helped.
The ground leveled gradually, and the muscles in my legs rejoiced. A few more long steps and I reached a gap in some trees that showed me a downhill, tree-cleared path toward the boathouse Sophie had marked.
The house was a well-lit, rectangular building sitting on top of docks. Serenity Lake glimmered beyond it. I couldn’t see any movement outside, but undoubtedly someone was in there.
I sat down behind a tree to catch my breath, rest my sore legs, and assess the situation.
“Eyes on the boathouse,” I said.
Strobing lights caught my attention to the north and east of the mansion’s hill. Headlights moving toward the main compound. I checked the map and noted that was the direction of the main driveway. “There are cars arriving at the mansion.”
“Confirmed,” Fan said. “I counted two cars that came down the northwest road a minute ago.”
“Roger,” Sophie replied.
“Party in full swing,” I said. “Nobody seems much interested in this boathouse.”
“Be careful. I’ll lose sight of you if you go down to that lake,” Fan warned.
“It’s okay. I’ll move around through cover and hit the beach. Maybe I should check the docks?”
“Do you sense anyone?” The voice was Silana’s.
I was tempted to smack my forehead. “Um. Good point. Hold on.” I’ll get used to this, eventually.
I closed my eyes. Not that I needed to, maybe, but I’d been blindfolded on the plane, so my initial instinct was to recreate that first test.
A point toward the center of my forehead warmed up. I reached out. My mind’s eye held the fresh image of the boathouse.
Two people. A couple.
“Two. There’s at least two people inside,” I said, breath short. I was giddy at my quick and unexpected success.
There was silence on the comm.
“Hello?” Dammit! “Did we lose comm?”
Silana’s light laugh burst through, just loud enough to make my heart skip. “You do not realize,” she said through the comm channel.
“Realize? Sorry. Realize what? I told you—there’s a couple in the house.”
“Oui. And is there a symphony playing nearby? A band at the party?”
I sat there for a minute dumbfounded.
“No music,” I replied.
“No music,” Silana echoed.
“Significant,” Sophie said.
“Your powers are growing,” Silana said. “Do you feel stronger?”
I couldn’t help it. I glanced up at the Moon. “Yes. I’ve sensed it for a while...but...but I...”
“The night and the wilds agree with you, I think,” Silana said. “Yes, quite the puzzle—”
“The mission.” It was Conrad’s voice. Ever to the point.
“Right, right,” I said. “I’m heading for the docks now.” I pushed to my feet, surveyed the vicinity, and, seeing no one, worked my way on the edge of the grassy hill, keeping to the trees for cover. “Going radio silent.”
“Bonne chance,” Silana said.
I kept the eerily pristine waters of Serenity Mere in sight the entire way down to its beach. It was glowing like a mirror from the full moon overhead. The weather remained clear and cool.
Hunched down between some bushes just above the sand, I peered northward up the beach. Still not a soul but me—and the couple above me in the boathouse.
Something from the conversation a minute before popped back into my brain.
No band playing. No band playing? No music at all from what I could hear. What kind of party doesn’t have music? And it was late. Late enough that any shindig should have beeen in full swing.
There wasn’t a party in that mansion. It was what they’d warned me of, Silana and Conrad. It was a gathering.
I grimaced and dropped from my shrub line to a narrow strand of stony beach. The only sounds were the light crunch of sand beneath my boots, and the singing of frogs and crickets around the lake.
It was time to crash the ‘party.’ Starting with lucky couple number one.
Serenity’s boathouse was a relatively simple, angle-roofed cottage atop twin docks. Light streamed out both windows on the south side facing me, and a much larger window on its east side opened out onto the water. There was a single, flat-bottomed fishing boat resting in the lake, protected below the boathouse itself. A good hiding spot.
Slowly, I worked my way up along the lakeside, the water on my right and boulders, rocks, and sparse tracts of sandy beach all along. It was tricky going in the dark of night, and I was very careful to not twist an ankle, but tall shrubs covered me most of the way to the boathouse.
Once I was safely in the boathouse's shadow, I stopped again to take a survey of my surroundings. At that angle, I couldn’t see inside the boathouse, but I could make out some distortions in the light. Movement. My empathic sense also told me—with my eyes open this time—that the boathouse was heating up.
I decided. Whoever was up in that cottage was not likely to see me coming, and they might have clothing I could use.
I rose to my feet and headed straight to the dock. In one pull of my arms, I was up and kneeling on the boards. A man’s moaning emanated from the floor of the boathouse above. I scowled. There was nothing else to do but get up there and scout it.
Up a short flight of wooden steps I went, as quietly as I could manage, keeping hunched down and out of the light of the windows. There were partially open shutters on both windows on the long side of the cottage. I moved into the shadow to the right side of one, on the east corner where I could scout the private lake.
A peek around that corner showed me plenty of light streaming out of the large French doors—what I'd mistaken for one big window—on that side, so I hesitated. There was still no sign of any guards. I slunk around on my hands and knees to reach below the surrounding balcony wall and crept quietly to the edge of the windowed doors.
The doors had flimsy curtains.
I knelt and readied myself. Add Peeping Tom to my list of awkward adventures.
Inside were two figures dressed in black-tie tuxedos, cloaked and masked, one sitting on a couch that was angled away from me and the other one on knees in front of the first. The man facing the southern pair of windows had a wolf or jackal mask on, all white with silver and blue filigree. It covered his face to just above his open mouth. He was the moaner.
Awkward or not, this was luck playing in my favor. Two tuxedos, so probably two men. Masks. The whole nine yards. All I had to do was figure out how to get a costume without causing a hailstorm of shit.
The pair weren’t concerned about being missed at the mansion, that much was clear. Bonus points.
I had to try my powers again.
At the ranch when I’d chased down Chiang, I knew I’d channeled emotions to Alejandro’s family. Even to his dogs. I shut my eyes this time and concentrated.
Work. Work, dammit.
I conjured images of paranoia. The sort of crap that goes on in your head after taking one too many bong hits. Hell, I even tossed in hunger pangs while I was at it.
I needed these two to straighten up, clean up, and get to the party.
There was no music. I wasn’t high on adrenaline. I had no serious faith I’d succeed. But the Moon was beaming down on me. I opened my eyes and risked another peek into the cottage.
Mr. Moaner, close-mouthed and quiet, gently pushed the other person’s head back—another man. A bearded guy. His mask was red and carved like half a devil’s face.
Mr. Moaner was breathing hard. “We need to stop. I don’t want to but...”
The devil on his knees laughed and replied, “No, you’re right. We’re acting like fools. As long as I get to finish you later...”
“Yes!” Mr. Moaner adjusted his mask. “You’ve made me so hungry.”
“There’ll be lots to eat,” said the devil.
They laughed together.
I winced. I’d done it again, but...holy Creepsville. Their twisted cackling and the lurid feelings that lingered around them. They disgusted me.
I shook off the negative energy and focused on being the ninja again.
Across the cottage’s interior was the main exit. I needed to be quick.
I crept underneath the windows on the side of the boathouse where I’d first approached, slid around the corner, and hunched down near the door. Again, I searched for signs of a guard or more wandering, masked revelers.
It was still all clear.
I breathed a steady breath in and back out. This would have to be fast and brutal, but most of all it would have to be stealthy. I almost felt sorry for the two horny bastards. Almost.
Without warning, someone hit me with a wave—or wind—of emotions. Hard to describe. Like getting pummeled by a rogue, fast incoming tide. Raw terror and loathing washed over me. From the mansion?
My eyes shut reflexively, and I found myself frozen in a flashback to my college senior year, back at Marquis Hall. The day terror came to North Texas.
The details of that event had been covered up so well by Texas sheriffs and the Feds that even Silana and Conrad didn’t know of my involvement.
The first human being in my unasked-for vision from that day was Victoria Ann Lott, sitting near me on the grass and waiting for a class as we’d done dozens of times.
Vicki bit her lower lip and turned away from me, looking across the green expanse of our North Texas campus, then said, “I knew you were an amazing musician, Lochlan, but I...” She hesitated, using both hands to pull a tiny, broken leaf out of her red hair, freshly fallen from the oak we sat under. Then she huffed and glared at me. “You never said you could sing like that!”
“Like what?”
“That!”
I couldn’t help myself. “What that?”
“Oh, Lord. You—just stop!”
I laughed gently. “I sing okay, I guess.”
“Hon, you sing like... Just never mind. It was beautiful. Thank you for inviting me.”
“Thanks for coming. It meant a lot,” I admitted.
Vicki had attended my senior vocal recital the night before. I’d sung for her more than for me, but I would never tell her that.
I broke the tension first. “I could definitely eat. Don’t suppose you’ve got any goodies in your bag?” It was close to lunchtime, but on Tuesdays our International course was at noon, so I wasn’t above scavenging. And she always had something stashed in that canvas backpack of hers.
Vicki smirked “—You know I do, dork—” and pulled her pack over. She rummaged inside, and the crumpling of a candy wrapper made my stomach clench.
She opened her palm, so I could see what had poured into it: M&M’s. Red, blue, yellow, green, orange. A smattering of browns. Plain, not peanut.
“You’ve saved me,” I breathed. “I’ll even eat the brown ones for you.”
Vicki laughed, and as I picked out the browns from her palm, she flipped over her phone to check the clock. “Here, just take them. It’s time.” She turned her small palm over, so the candies fell into my hand.
I smiled, popped more M&M’s into my mouth, and reached for my backpack.
Vicki slung her own pack across one shoulder, and her blouse stretched tightly across her breasts.
I diverted my eyes. It wasn’t easy—she made my blood rush hot—but Mom had raised me a Texas gentleman.
When I looked back, she was ready to go but had that familiar expression on her face. I hadn’t been fast enough.
She has to know, I thought.
We’d been meeting before class outside Marquis Hall for the better half of the Spring semester. It had started innocently enough. We’d discuss books we were reading or music we liked. But I always kept in mind that Vicki was a taken woman. Pre-med boyfriend. Stiff competition for a change, though I’d never met the guy. Still, it was just enough to keep me at bay.
I hated myself for it. The whole ruse. I wanted to just admit what I felt, but I had my silly sense of honor. Where had I gotten that honor? I couldn’t even tell you for sure. My father? Maybe. But he’d died when I was little. More likely, it came from books I’d read growing up, and somewhere along the line, chivalry had rubbed off on me.
I pretended not to notice the mischief in Vicki’s eyes. “Inward and onward,” I said and took a step toward the pillars of Marquis Hall.
We made our way up the short flight of stairs, and I held open one of the double doors for Vicki. She liked me doing that.
Our class was on the first floor. Room 111. Just halfway down the long, checkered hallway where our classmates straggled in from all directions. I nodded greetings at many of them.
“Sup, Jabari,” I said to the lanky guy who walked toward us.
“Mornin’, y’all.” He reached the door to Room 111 first and pushed it open.
Everybody in the classroom settled at their desks. We had an unspoken seating order by then. Vicki sat on my left side and Jabari on my right, in the middle of the rows.
Normally I’d have been in the back, but Vicki did the choosing at the start of the semester and, yeah, you know.
Vicki searched inside her backpack for a pen and her book. Me, I rarely cared for taking notes, but Vicki was meticulous about it.
The door opened again, and old Professor Langton entered the room. He had on his tweed jacket with the brown elbow patches. A classic.
“Morning, everyone,” he said.
“Morning, Professor,” most of us responded.
Vicki tapped her pen on the top of her desk and grinned at me. The patch of freckles on the bridge of her nose crinkled up when she did that.
I’m sure I stared at that nose too often. It was perfect. At least to me.
I was staring at her nose when firecrackers started exploding outside our closed classroom.
Crazy what love does.
But I came out of my love-sodden stupor when Vicki’s eyes went wide. Classmates yammered all around us, and one girl behind me screamed so loudly after a burst of gunshots from outside our door, I stood out of my desk. In the next moment my hands were on my backpack, unzipping it, and I pulled my Glock from the holster I’d Velcroed inside.
I had to protect Vicki.
My vision leapt ahead a few minutes.
I was standing in that hallway again, facing the back of a medium-built, dark-skinned man, dressed in body armor, blue jeans, and tennis shoes, his head covered by a checkered scarf. He turned toward me, and I recognized the AK-47 in his hands. Our eyes met as he raised his rifle.
I shot him in the face. Twice.
Outside of this scene in my trapped mind, out in the actual world, back at the boathouse, two voices rose in the distance. No, not in the distance. Close. They were the joking voices of men. I knew these men. From just minutes before.
I couldn’t break out of my walking dream. There was another presence I remembered as clearly as I remember the face of my own mother. It was Vicki. She’d been behind me with several other students in our classroom, barricaded off the hallway. It was her fear that had inspired me then. It was this same fear staggering me again. From the mansion.
My rage stormed.
I knew I had to snap to, had to be ready. The Devil and the Wolf were coming to the door.
The door handle clicked.
My eyes snapped open, and a leg appeared just inches from my face as one of the two men exited the boathouse. I sprung up and punched him in the stomach with a heavy swing of my left fist. He choked and sputtered as he crashed back inside. The other man exclaimed in surprise.
I bolted through the doorway. Wolf was crumpled on his back, on top of Devil, and Devil was about to cry out.
I still had a vivid picture of Vicki in my mind. Her red hair and the checkered, red and white scarf of the terrorist all blended into one.
Into blood...
My fists landed in the devil's face. One. Two. Three. Four times.
The devil didn’t make a sound then. Didn’t make a move. His bearded mouth hung open, slack and dripping more blood.
The wolf had caught his breath, rolled, and tried to get to his feet. But he was staggered from my gut blow and wasn’t quick enough. I didn’t want to smash furniture. Too much noise. So, I grabbed him by the throat with both hands to crush his voice. I wanted to choke him to death—but I resisted. I didn’t know this man. I couldn’t know what he was guilty of.
I hadn’t become an executioner. Not yet.
It’s difficult to knock someone out. The movies and TV are full of illusions. However, a blow to the back of the skull or to the temple is effective. I did both to the wolf, first slamming him onto the throw rug, then repeating the move, but this time on the wood floor where I roughly dragged him, all the while my hands squeezing his larynx shut. His eyes practically bulged through the holes of his mask.
To finish it, I removed my hand from his throat and smashed him once more, with my fist, hard in the left temple.
Wolf fell limp.
For a few seconds, I feared I’d killed him, but I touched his chest and it rose under my palm. I glanced over at Devil. He remained unconscious.
I knelt on the wooden floor of the boathouse, very still, and listened, using both ears and my empathy.
Vicki was in the mansion's direction, but her flood of terror was gone. I couldn’t focus on her and didn’t know why.
But then other fear hit me, from other terrorized...
Kids?
Children. There was no doubt. Someone had kids here.
What in the actual fuck?
“Songbird? Songbird what’s your status?” It was Conrad’s voice in my earpiece.
I assessed my surroundings. Glitzy furnishings fit for a showroom. Shuttered windows partially closed. The exit door wide open. I quickly shut it, crawled over to the north windows, and pulled the shutters, too. I could only pray nobody had witnessed my attack. For the moment, I sensed nobody else around the boathouse.
“I—I’m okay. Dealt...with some problems,” I replied. I removed a golden tablecloth from a glass breakfast table and tore it into wide strips. “Tying things up.”
“There’s no new movement on the hill. You’re still safe, Songbird,” Fan said.
“Good to know,” I replied. The two unconscious, masked forms at my feet had what I needed. “I’ve got some party garb. Mask, the whole bit. Will have to move the bodies though. Too risky to leave them.”
“Right,” Conrad said. “Suggest you use the forest.”
“Yep.”
I sized up Wolf and Devil. Both were in shape, but neither was exceptionally tall. That was a problem. However, the cloaks they wore would help cover my leather. I could put a tux shirt and tie on even if I had to rip the arms off. Pants. Same deal. Tearing wouldn’t matter. I was just looking to create camouflage so I could move across the compound without drawing attention.
I gagged both men with a wad of cloth in each mouth and tightly bound strips to keep everything in place. I also blindfolded them because I didn’t want either getting a clean look at my face if they woke up. Then I bound Wolf, the smaller of the two.
Devil I stripped down to his Calvin Klein’s. Wolf woke up during that and groaned and complained through his gag, tried to roll on the floor, but I’d hogtied him too well. He could only squirm a few feet away from me, so I ignored him.
I worried that Devil might awaken before I got him tied up, and he did, just as I got a cloth strip around his ankles. He kicked at me, so I punched him where it hurts the most. Just once is all it took. His face went tomato red. If I hadn’t gagged him, he would have howled, and I saw Wolf’s head jerk blindly at his partner’s agony.
“Struggle again and I’ll make you both regret it, you got me?” I instantly regretted not killing them. I’m sure that came across in my voice. “Nod if you understand me.”
Both blindfolded men nodded furiously.
I lifted Wolf up over a shoulder in a fireman’s carry and hoisted Devil under my right arm, half carrying, half dragging him toward the exit door. I balanced Wolf on my shoulder and pulled the door open, but before I exited, I flipped the outdoor lamp off. Under the cover of darkness, I went down the stairs to the docks below, Devil’s feet dragging, thumping lightly on each step as I went.
I moved onto the beach, then crept into the closest bushes I could find. In a line of evergreens past the brush, I dumped both men on the ground—not gently—each far from the other. Neither were Harry Houdini, but why risk making it an easy escape?
They groaned, but only briefly, remembering my promise. I could sense their terror.
Without another word, I left Wolf and Devil and made my way back to the boathouse.
I crept up the walkway to the cottage and neared the gloomy spot I’d created by dousing the porch light. I felt good about my progress.
That should have been my first warning.
“All guests should be gathering in the mansion, sir.” The man spoke from behind me. From the walkway. “Did that light burn out?”
I froze in place but didn’t turn around.
Fuck.