“But they’re in custody now, right?” she asked hopefully.
Blake delivered his answer with another discouraging shake of his head. “No, they’re not. In fact, we don’t know where they are.”
“How could they get away?” Kenneth demanded. “Didn’t someone call the freaking cops?”
Blake threw up his hands in confusion. “They vanished.”
“How?” was the next question flung at him.
Blake tried to explain the events as they’d been conveyed to him. “I’m not clear on all the details just yet—everything’s on red alert right now and we’re scrambling to contain the scene.”
Tessa leaned forward on the table, burying her face in her hands. “Damn it. I’ll bet Jake’s found the scepter. It was the last piece missing—and the most important. Somehow that bastard tracked it down.”
“He’s good, damn good,” Addison agreed.
“Whatever it is, it seems to be a potent weapon they’ve got at their disposal,” Blake continued. “Security cameras filmed the entire incident. At least we can get a look at what we’re dealing with.”
“So what happens next?” Kenneth wanted to know.
The answer arrived as a knock on the door. Without waiting, a cadre of heavily armed agents invaded the apartment.
Addison groaned as two agents headed her way with handcuffs drawn. “Don’t tell me we’re being arrested for what someone else did?” she cracked in a caustic tone.
Blake’s impenetrable mask slipped a moment. A look of consternation crossed his face, as if he couldn’t compute the answers he had to deliver. “I’m sorry,” he said slowly. “Because more civilians have died, the Mer are now considered alien terrorists with the intent to kill.”
Kenneth refused his cuffing, wriggling between two agents. “By whose fucking say-so?”
“The A51 is invoking the Antiterrorism and Effective Death Penalty Act,” Blake answered. “A significant event usually involves people being killed or wounded by foreign invaders. The Mer have just been reclassified as enemy aliens.”
“Which means?” Kenneth retorted.
“You’re all being taken into custody and remanded to solitary confinement until the government decides what to do with the Mer.”
Kenneth made a lunge toward Whittaker. “Why the hell didn’t you tell us?” he demanded angrily. “Did you think we were going to pelt your people with little plastic hotels?”
Blake held up his hands. “I still have a job to do,” he explained quietly. “And I didn’t want things to get out of hand. Just keep your cool and it’ll be all right.”
“Fuck you, Whittaker,” Kenneth snapped back. “You’ve done nothing but exploit my family.”
An electric flash of anger rose in the back of Gwen’s mind. For a full minute she stared straight ahead, hardly able to comprehend the bizarre turn the seemingly normal evening had taken. For some insane reason she’d begun to trust Blake. Had considered opening up enough to let him know how she really felt.
Thank the goddess she’d had the sense to keep her mouth shut. Kenneth was right. Blake had done nothing but exploit their trust. Every move he made was done to serve his job. She suspected everything he’d told them was a lie, simply to prey on their sympathies so he could worm his way in.
Nothing more.
Keenly aware of the blood throbbing through her veins, she felt her composure crumble when she settled her gaze on him.
We were so stupid!
Her anger swiftly morphed into fury, boiling and rising to the surface. If she let the beast loose, nothing would be able to stop her . . .
Blake must have sensed the impulse building inside her. His gaze locked with hers. He gave a subtle shake of his head.
Please don’t,
his silent plea said.
Though she didn’t like it, Gwen picked up on his signal. Strike out now and it would only reaffirm the fact the Mer could be dangerous adversaries.
Shaking from exertion, she fought to harness the beast inside. The sound of her heart thumping against her chest seemed inordinately loud. The unspent burst of energy bounced off the walls of her skull. A headache began to build at her temples. Perspiration broke out on her skin and her clothes, her clothes clinging uncomfortably to her body.
Cuffs in hand, one of the nameless agents stepped up to her. “If you would, please.”
Clenching her fingers into fists, Gwen offered her wrists. “This isn’t necessary.” She fought to control the agitation in her voice, and failed. The cold metal bit into her skin. She refused to let her mind linger on the sensation.
“We’re not like the other Mer,” Addison put in.
Tessa frowned at the cuffs circling her wrists. “We’ve done everything we can to cooperate.”
Though cuffed himself, Kenneth wasn’t finished complaining. “And all you’re doing is treating my wife and her sisters like they are part of some huge terrorist organization. They may be labeled as aliens, but I’m a goddamned citizen and I am more than aware I’ve got rights—rights that you people have trampled all over.”
“Nobody here is listening,” one of the nameless agents advised him drily. “We can make this easy or we can make it hard.” He shrugged. “Your choice.”
Blake Whittaker stepped in. “You will treat these people with due respect until they prove they deserve otherwise.” He arched a brow toward Kenneth. “In turn, I am sure they will continue to cooperate with us as we attempt to sort through this grievous mess.”
Kenneth failed to take the hint. “I want a goddamned attorney,” he groused, then added, “And I’ve got enough money to sue the pants off the federal government. It’s wrong to treat my wife and her sisters like criminals.”
Tessa shushed her husband. “Take it easy, Ken.” She offered a small smile of reassurance. “You’re human and you’ll get out of here.”
“I won’t leave without you girls,” he insisted.
Apprehension tightened Gwen’s throat. Somehow she had a feeling they’d never get out of this place alive.
The ride across the compound was short and sweet. And silent. No one dared to speak.
Rounded up like fugitives, they were all taken to a new facility, one they’d never seen before. Heavily guarded, the place looked cold and foreboding.
An elevator whisked them to corridors deep underground. And then they were all split up. Tessa and Kenneth were hustled off in one direction, Addison another.
That left Gwen by herself. Alone and very afraid.
Guided down a long corridor, each step toward the final destination felt like doom in her heart. She tried to switch off her mind, but that was impossible. The freeze coming off the agents attending her felt like walking across the North Pole naked.
Separated from her sisters, Gwen was taken into a room by herself. There she was stripped of her cuffs and clothing and given a quick spray down with some sort of antiseptic wash. The liquid smelled like wintergreen and burned like rubbing alcohol.
They’re afraid of us,
came the vague thought. Funny, she felt just the opposite. She was afraid of them. An image of herself stretched out on an autopsy table flashed across her mind’s eye.
One of the female agents handed her a one-piece jumpsuit. “Put this on,” she instructed.
Gwen’s numb fingers barely functioned to allow her to dress herself. Her hands, she noted with no amusement, were trembling. The jumpsuit was stiff and starchy, and it rubbed uncomfortably against her skin. At least she’d been allowed to keep her own underwear. That was a small blessing.
Somehow she managed to get through the humiliating experience. It was too damn bad her self-respect was in tatters. Disciplining her fear was important at this stage. Lose control now and she’d crumble into a million tiny pieces. She’d just have to suck it up and deal.
Turning her mind away from her present predicament, Gwen wondered how long it would take for Brenda to figure out she probably wasn’t coming back to work. No doubt her absence would soon segue into an unfortunate death. It would be easy enough for the government to fabricate her passing. She wondered if she’d get an obituary in the local paper.
She shivered. Her legs threatened to buckle under her weight. Somehow she managed to keep standing.
Don’t let them get to you,
she counseled herself. She closed her eyes and rubbed her lids with the heels of her hands. When she was ready to look at the agents again, it was with a measure of dignity.
The cell she was led to was stark white, all steel and concrete. Harsh lights from above glared down, lighting every angle. There was nowhere to hide. Aside from a bunk bolted into the wall, there was only a metal toilet and small sink.
Under full guard, Gwen was made to stand in the center of the cell. Swaying a little on unsteady feet, she clenched her fists with frustration. This was ridiculous! She’d only used her Mercraft to defend Blake.
I shouldn’t have saved his sorry ass, came the dark thought.
A moment later, Dr. Novak arrived. Face dead pale, he carried a small electronic device. His eyes flicked her a rueful look. “I’ve got to put this on,” he said by way of an apology. “Will you please sit on the bunk and give me your ankle?”
Gwen sat, then tugged up one leg of her jumpsuit. She had the odd feeling Novak was ashamed of what he had to do.
Her jaw muscles tightened. “Is that what I think it is?”
Dr. Novak glanced up. “Not quite,” he mumbled through tight lips. “It’s a monitoring device, but not the kind anyone would want to wear.”
She barely registered his answer. Unbidden chills crept up her spine when she felt the circle of cold metal bite into her skin. “What kind is it?”
Novak refused to glance up as he fixed the device around her ankle. A slight flush of red mottled the skin of his neck. “It’s an SCSD, a Secure Continuous Shock Device.”
Her brows shot up. “Shock device?”
Dirty deed completed, Dr. Novak climbed back to his feet. “It’s a security precaution to control your psi-abilities. Should you show signs of aggression, this little gadget will deliver a high-voltage shock to your system.”
Her astonishment was huge, but quickly absorbed. “Like a stun gun?” she asked, still not quite believing the nightmarish turn the evening had taken. One minute they’d all been sitting around sipping wine and playing a game. The next, they’d been thrust into a hell composed of iron bars, concrete walls, and instruments that bordered on torturous.
Dr. Novak laid a hand on her shoulder and bent close. “Don’t make them use it,” he warned under his breath. “These things are powerful enough to knock you unconscious.”
Her neck and shoulders knotted with tension. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Novak shook his head. “Unfortunately, I’m not.” He frowned, clearly unhappy with his involvement.
Gwen looked into his face, searching his eyes. “You don’t really believe that me or my sisters would do anything to hurt anyone, do you?”
She need not have asked the question at all. By the way he was looking at her, she knew without a doubt that he’d seen the damning videotape Blake had told them about not a half hour ago. She couldn’t imagine the impression it had made upon his mind. He no longer trusted any Mer, even those he knew.
Ruffling a hand through his hair, Novak sighed. “I’m just doing what I’m ordered to.” He turned and left. Gwen was all alone.
She didn’t relish being locked in a small cell all by herself. Surely they’d allow her some kind of entertainment. Books, maybe. Perhaps a small radio. If there was one thing that grated on her nerves, it was silence. She couldn’t stand it. It’s why she always had the television playing in the background.
Lifting her foot onto the bunk, she tugged the cuff down to cover the hateful thing. It vibrated against her skin, sending out a subtle threat. One wrong move and it would bite her.
Terrible danger.
Her thoughts went temporarily ballistic. She thought of killing. Right now. Just blast the bastards. Every last one of them. The Mer had the right to protect themselves against danger.
She clenched her hands, forcing the balls of her fists into her lap. Tamping down the anger and hurt took all the willpower she could muster. Only the goddess knew what would happen to her kind now.
Blake sat in Dennis Thompson’s office, watching the scenes of carnage in the museum unfold. Dismay twisting with disbelief tightened his chest.
Had he not already had an encounter with the Mer himself, he could have thought the incident too incredible to be believed. It turned his stomach to see two men killed, viciously and without being given a chance to defend themselves.
Remote in hand, Thompson flipped off the television. “You’re lucky you survived their attack on the island.” He snorted. “Those poor bastards didn’t have a chance. Never knew what they were up against.”
Blake glanced up at his superior. “Neither did I,” he said, thinking about the blast he’d taken. The wound had healed, leaving a nice scar behind as a memento. He barely noticed it since he had a collage of others to show from his time in the service. Had it not given him a twinge now and again he would have already forgotten it. “And I wouldn’t have gotten out alive without Gwen and her sisters helping me.”
“It wasn’t like they had a choice,” Thompson returned with evident sarcasm. “Their own asses were on the line.”
Thompson’s words irritated him. Blake despised him all over again. Since their initial meeting he’d done all he could to make a wide berth around the fat little man. He hadn’t liked him on sight and couldn’t wait until he could leave the A51 compound behind.
It won’t be anytime soon,
came his dejected thought.
“But you’re treating them like they were the ones who attacked,” he retorted. “Throwing them in solitary and treating them like war criminals, Dennis, that’s cold. Is it really necessary?” He was hoping he could beg for a little clemency on behalf of the Lonike sisters. After all, they hadn’t been involved in the butchery. Their only crime so far, if you could even call it that, was being born Mer.