Revenge Page 2

  Once things settled back down, Kate spoke up. “As to the timetable, that’s where I come in. We don’t need the proof all lined up and ready for a jury to cause enough public backlash and doubt in his abilities. That may be enough to get Jackson out of office. We’ll need the proof to go before a Congressional Committee, but not to get public sentiment against him.”

  “Basically, trying him in the court of public opinion, right?” Cullen said.

  Kate nodded. “Exactly. We have enough friends in Congress that we could get people talking about impeachment, even though without solid proof, we have nothing to act on. The threat may be enough to get him to resign with his dignity intact.”

  “I may not know my father very well, but I doubt he’d give up power for a little lost dignity,” Emlen said.

  Edmund nodded. “True, but there is a lot more power in being a resigned President who wasn’t elected into the office, than there is in being an impeached President who murdered his way into the office.”

  Cullen leaned forward, elbows on the table. “So, how can I help?”

  “Keep acting as Emlen’s Garda. Kian and Micah are around, but they’re also helping with overall security at Mayfield. We need someone whose main focus is Em,” Connor replied.

  “That’s great. I will, of course, continue to protect the mother of my child, but I can do more,” Cullen said as he turned to the others. “Before all of this, I worked as a contractor and before that, a cop. I have a Bachelor’s in Criminal Justice. I’m more than just Em’s guard.”

  “And you’ve been an amazing help with everything Connor and I have been working on,” Thomas told Cullen. “Your input on setting up PLEA has been incredibly beneficial.”

  “Then let me keep helping with that. Don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with Emlen, but while she’s writing, training or dealing with her duties here at Mayfield, there’s no real need for me. I’m the kind of person who has to feel like I’m contributing my share.”

  “Let me add, as much as I love having Cullen around, there are times I want my space,” Emlen said.

  Thomas thought for a minute, then asked Cullen, “How would you feel about reviewing case files? Giving your input on what tactics we should take or angles we should look at?”

  Cullen glanced at Emlen, then turned to Thomas. “Sounds good to me. I already know the kind of framework PLEA has in place, so I can work within that and make recommendations.”

  “I have a question,” Em said. “I know PLEA stands for Paranormal Law Enforcement Alliance, but what do you tell non-magical people?”

  Connor chuckled. “Pan-global instead of Paranormal. We tell them we recruit and serve worldwide as additional manpower for specific cases brought to us by other law enforcement agencies. Which, to be fair, is true. Just not in the way they would assume.”

  “People will believe what they want to believe, which is why I spend more time verifying stories than I do writing my own,” Kate said.

  “And why I stay off social media,” Emlen added. “Ever since Elise’s funeral, I’ve either been portrayed as an angel or a whore.”

  “Yet half of the people who call you one or the other can’t pick your photo out of a lineup. However, the general consensus is that you’re a sweet girl caught in an unusual situation, trying to make the best of it,” Kate said. “The fact that you’re living here and not at the White House or the Observatory is playing in your favor.”

  “Speaking of the Observatory, did you finally get the master suite cleared? I can’t believe how many nasty magical surprises Jackson left behind,” Stefan asked.

  “If not for Emlen and her psychometry gift, and the help of the ghosts, we would have been in a bad way,” Patrick said. “Weakened, confused, susceptible to illness – Jackson really scraped the bottom of the barrel to try and get back at us for blackmailing him.”

  “I’m sure he’s not done trying to get back at you either,” Emlen said. “It’s not like him to just let something go.”

  Cullen rested an arm across the back of Emlen’s chair. “Spell-casting is not his strength or gift, either. I wonder who he had do them?”

  “Dunleavy,” Mira replied. “He comes from a long line of spell makers and his gift is in modifying spells on the fly.”

  “All the more reason to take that bastard down,” Edmund said, as he rose from his chair. “Alright, everyone. Read the dossiers from Mira, brainstorm and let’s see what we can come up with as a plan of action. Patrick and I need to get back and I’m sure the rest of you have things you need to be doing.” He walked over to Emlen and leaned down to kiss her on the top of the head. “Congrats on the baby, Em. Take care of yourself and the next Descendant.”

  “I will, Edmund,” Em murmured. “You take care too.”

  People started filing out of the room, but Mira stayed seated. “Emlen, a word?”

  Em kissed Cullen’s cheek and sent him along before turning back to sit near Mira. “Something up?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about this alone. I may have found a way to remove the Descendant curse.”

  “The curse? You mean, being born with magic?”

  “No, the curse part. The part where only one child has children. I found an ancient text that spoke of a similar curse and I have been gathering the essential items. Worst case, it does nothing. Best case, your children can each have children and no one will need die or be barren.”

  “I’m in,” Emlen said. “Whatever it takes, I’m in.”

  “Next full moon is first week of September. We’ll try and do it then?”

  “Thank you, Mira,” Emlen smiled, then leaned in to hug the older woman. “You’re a true gift to all of us. Thank you.”

  “Aww, you’re going to make me blush,” Mira replied, shaking her head. “I just do what I see is right. I count myself blessed to know you, Emlen Brewster. Your gifts are going to change the world.”

  Chapter 3

  President John Frederick Jackson sat in his temporary office on the second floor of the White House, chair turned away from the desk. The view out the window allowed him to watch the construction taking place as they rebuilt the section of the West Wing that once held the Oval office. It would again, but not for a few more weeks.

  Reginald Dunleavy stood on the other side of Jackson’s desk, looking out the window as well. “Impressive amount of damage,” Dunleavy said.

  “Well, Javelin missiles tend to take out what they’re aimed at, right?”

  “And then some. At least the structural repairs are done. I get why what happened was necessary, but it seems a shame to damage a national treasure in order to do it.”

  “Reggie, do shut up. I don’t pay you to comment on what I do or how I do it,” Jackson said, turning his chair back around to look at the man across from him. “Tell me how is recruiting going?”

  Dunleavy eyed the chair next to him, but he’d not been invited to sit, so he shifted his weight and sighed. “It’s down. This new organization, PLEA, is offering a better recruitment package.”

  “Then fix our recruitment package.”

  “Yeah, we can’t afford to match what they’re offering.”

  “Who the hell is behind PLEA anyway? I’ve found nothing. Shell company after shell company. I heard they were based out of the Hague, but they’re not too pleased with me right now. They’re not going to give me anything resembling information we can use,” Jackson said.

  “I’ll see what I can find out,” Dunleavy said as he headed out of the office. Once he got outside, he let out a slow breath and cursed. “Fuckers wouldn’t piss on you, JJ, if you were on fire. You’re just that loved.”

  The secretary that sat outside Jackson’s office choked on her coffee when she heard Dunleavy’s words. She lifted her mug to him in a silent toast of agreement before she turned back to her computer.

  Reggie went down the hall and out of the building, wondering if he could find any way to get himself out of this mess. He’d been tangled up in t
he Jackson family and Order business since he had been a teen. The Judge recruited him out of juvie and put him through university at Georgetown with a business degree. He worked for the Order from day one and he’d almost married into the Jackson family. A shudder ran through him as he sat in his car, fingers gripping the wheel. He didn’t want to get married, but the Judge had ordered it. Then Tina had run and Simmons, the sick fuck, shot her in the back. He still remembered the look of surprised terror on her face as they slid her into the hole they’d dug. Reggie saw that face often in his nightmares.

  The Jackson family well and truly owned him – well, JJ now did. The Judge would never breathe free air again, so that one was off the list. He almost wished he still only dealt with the Judge. As twisted as the old man had been, his son took things to a whole new level. The spell traps he’d had Reggie leave in the Observatory were downright cruel. Not that cruel bothered Reggie much, not when the person deserved it – but Matthews? He didn’t deserve it. Yet.

  The new BMW he drove handled like a dream. Reggie loved his nice cars – he had six now. This one, a 230i, worked perfectly as a commuter car in DC. Convertible for the days when the weather allowed, nimble for when traffic would try and slow him down. It wasn’t until he hit the GW parkway that he noticed the black Hummer on his tail. He changed lanes a few times and it stayed on his rear, getting closer. Reggie cut over to Spout Run parkway and did his best to lose them, but they kept on him. Two car lengths back, then three – the gap between them grew as he hit the Thrifton Hill Park area. That was the last thing Reggie would ever remember. A fireball spilled across the parkway, causing vehicles to spin and skid as they tried to avoid the wreckage. The black Hummer pulled over as its occupants watched the car burn. Once they were assured no one would walk away, the vehicle turned and took a side road along with the others trying to avoid the scene.

  * * *

  The McLean Psychiatric hospital often housed the rich, the famous, and the spoiled. The staff were used to entitled arrogance from many of their patients and John Cameron Jackson, once a Federal Judge, was no different. He had made few friends during his stay at the facility. No one wanted to be stuck dealing with the Judge, so it surprised the aide on call when Mario had said he’d take the Judge that afternoon. She sure as hell didn’t want to deal with the cranky old bastard, not with her boards coming up. The extra study time would be welcome, so she agreed to switch and sat with Mrs. Sanders who never said a word, just stared at the ceiling all day.

  Jenny told all of this to the police when they came to investigate the sudden death of the Judge from an apparent heart attack.

  Mario claimed he had been so distraught by the death, that he had to quit. Before the police could talk to him.

  Jenny also found it odd that they couldn’t find any trace of the nurse’s aide named Mario in their employee database, nor did his fingerprints show up in any system.

  * * *

  The phone rang several times before the old man picked it up to answer. “Yes?”

  “Commander, it is done. The Judge and Dunleavy are no more,” the mechanical voice said.

  “Good work. Payment will be wired to the specified account in fifteen minutes.”

  The old man smiled as he hung up the phone. Two down. His beautiful magician, his charge, his sweet angel had been taken much too soon. He would be joining her shortly, so the time to pay his debts had come. Those who had killed her and those who had failed to protect her – they were all going to pay. Every last one of them. He didn’t care if they were Garda or Order, they had let his Valentina die and that could never be forgiven.

  The man now known as Peter Wolfe hit the controls on his chair to bring him closer to the wall of glass and the view of the Mediterranean Sea beyond. The twisted glimpse of his reflection made his stomach churn, so he hit the button that moved the glass out of the way, allowing the salt air to sweep over him. It had taken him years to build his little group. The Cardinal’s betrayal had made it so easy to scoop up the disenfranchised and angry men that made up his band of rogues. Men who were capable of those things Peter had once been able to do. Things that Peter wished he could still do with his own twisted hands.

  He knew this one thing, however.

  They should have let him stay dead, all those years ago.

  Chapter 4

  Emlen and Susan sat next to the pool, enjoying iced tea and sandwiches. Susan had returned to Mayfield after spending a week with Angelica at her coastal cottage on the Maryland shore.

  “This is so nice,” Susan said, stretched out on the recliner, glass of tea in one hand. “It’s going to be hectic when I get back to Massachusetts.”

  “Because you need to make room for Angelica?” Emlen teased.

  Susan blushed and nodded. “I’m so happy she’ll be coming to live with me for a while. We’ll stay in Massachusetts until winter and then move to her place in Maryland through spring. That way neither one of us has to give up our homes and we can stay connected with our families.”

  “Were you a couple before?”

  “We were, sort of. There was a connection back then, but we ignored it as nothing more than good friends because society wasn’t as accepting then. We both ended up marrying men and having families.”

  “And now you can be true to yourselves. That’s a wonderful gift,” Emlen said. She was seated at the table next to where Susan lay, eating a sandwich and making notes on a pad next to her plate.

  “It really is. We get the best of both worlds.”

  Emlen put the pen down and looked over at her mother’s friend. “Susan, would you like to talk to Mom?”

  A beaming smile answered Em’s question before Susan’s words did. “I’d love to.” She rose from the recliner and sat in the seat next to Em. “What do I need to do?”

  “Just touch me,” Emlen replied. Once Susan had laid a hand on Emlen’s arm, Em called out “Mom? Can you come visit with us for a moment?”

  It took a minute, but soon Camille was standing on the other side of the table from them. She looked as solid and alive as the two seated women.

  Susan’s voice cracked with emotion as she whispered, “Oh, my gods. Cami…is it really you?”

  Camille smiled as she stepped closer to the two seated. “Yes, Suze, it’s me. It’s so good to see you.”

  Susan rose from her seat, keeping one hand on Em’s shoulder. “C’mere, sister. I need to give you a hug.”

  Emlen reached up to take Susan’s hand and the other woman wrapped her free arm around Camille. Tears slid down her cheeks as she hugged her friend. “I have felt so guilty for not being there, that night. I…”

  “You would have died, too,” Camille told Susan, hugging her back. “Instead, you were here to help my baby girl understand more of her heritage. Priceless, my friend.”

  Emlen used a foot to push a chair out so Camille could sit beside Susan and the two settled in the chairs, facing each other.

  Camille gripped Susan’s free hand, both of them searching the other’s face. “You’re beautiful, Susan,” Camille said. “Age is wonderful on you.”

  Susan laughed and shook her head, “It’s not as easy as it looks, but I’m enjoying it for now.”

  Emlen leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Well, now that I have you both here, I have some news.” When both turned to look at her, Emlen continued. “Cullen and I are having a baby.”

  Silence from them both for a heartbeat before both ladies cheered. “Congrats, Emmy,” Susan offered, squeezing the hand she held while Cami got up and leaned through the table to hug her daughter.

  “Oh, I’m going to be a grandma,” Camille whispered into Em’s hair. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “You’re both going to be grandma to this baby, as are Simone and Eileen O’Brien,” Emlen said, then paused and looked at Susan, “Well, if you want to be?”

  “Of course I do,” Susan laughed and kissed Em’s cheek. “Babies are wonderful.”

  “How are you fe
eling?” Camille asked Em. “Tired? Hungry?”

  “Tired a lot and I’m eating more than usual, but no weird cravings yet,” Em replied. “I still need to see a doctor, but we’ve scheduled one to come out next week. I don’t need to tell you two how much we need to keep this under wraps.”

  “Yeah, the last thing you need is JJ finding out,” Camille said.

  “What did you crave when you were pregnant with me?” Emlen asked Camille.

  “In the beginning, fresh tomatoes. I’d eat them like apples,” Camille said. “Then in the last couple of months, ice cream. Didn’t matter the flavor, as long as it was fruit or chocolate with nuts or chocolate bits. Dishes, cones, shakes, I wasn’t that particular.”

  Emlen chuckled. “I’m kind of liking the idea that I can eat all the ice cream I want.”

  Susan laughed. “I craved berries at first, then popsicles. Red ones, mostly. With my second, I couldn’t get enough of pickles and peppers. Pepperoncini and jars of pickles or giardiniera mix were favorites. Of course, that was my daughter. Fiery and tart fits her personality.”

  Em rubbed a hand over her still-flat belly. “I wonder what traits this little one will have?”

  “They’ll be brilliant, no matter what, with you and Cullen as parents,” Camille said.

  “And gorgeous,” Susan added. “Both of you are beautiful people, so no ugly babies coming out of that.”

  “Aww, all babies are cute,” Emlen said.

  “No, not always,” Susan replied. “My sister has a son that still looks like someone hit him with an ugly stick. Sweet kid, but it was always a challenge to say something positive about him when she asked, ‘Isn’t my boy adorable?’ and I’d be like, ‘He’s something, alright.’”

  All three of them burst into laughter. Emlen reached out to squeeze her mom’s hand too. “You’re both so precious to me. I sometimes think of this gift as a curse, but right now? Right now, it is truly a blessing.”