Revenge Page 6

“No, love, you don’t. You know how proud Da is going to be, walking you down the aisle? How thrilled Camille will be, seeing her little girl get married? How much Ma is going to be fussing over us both? All they’ve wanted is to see us happy and make them lots of grandbabies.”

  Emlen snorted laughter into his shirt. “Yeah, Ma texts or calls me every day to see how I’m doing. And yes, I want to wear my granny’s gown and make my promises to you in front of our family and friends. I just didn’t want the bloody three ring circus.”

  Cullen ran his hands up and down her back as he soothed her. “Just think, someday we’ll be able to tell our kids and grandkids that we got married in the White House Rose Garden.”

  Em tipped her head back and looked up at him. “I love you, Cullen Murphy O’Brien and I can’t wait until I’m Emlen O’Brien at last.”

  He leaned down and kissed her, then pulled her close and rested his chin on her head. “I know it’s a lot right now, Em. Once the weddings are over, I can walk down the street with you and not worry about who might see us. I won’t worry about whether JJ will come after us for loving each other. It will make things better for us both.”

  “You’re right, it will take a lot of pressure off us. I just want to get back to Boston and enjoy getting the house ready for our baby.”

  “Now that sounds like a plan,” Cullen said and kissed her again. “Let’s finish up our work for today so we can have a movie night in our room.”

  “Deal,” Em said and gave him a smile. “But I’m picking the movie this time.”

  “I thought you liked comedies?”

  “I don’t like stupid comedies. Besides, I’m in the mood for something with lots of explosions.”

  Cullen laughed as they walked out of the room.

  * * *

  JJ sat at the Resolute desk, a stack of business cards in front of him. He had been building a card house and had two levels done already when his Chief of Staff entered. “What do you want, Thompson?”

  The man hesitated when he saw what the President was doing, then cleared his throat. “Mr. President, you have a meeting with the Joint Chiefs in fifteen minutes and we still need to go over your talking points for the State of the Union address tomorrow.”

  “I don’t want to talk to them. All they talk about is armies and war, combat strategies. It’s boring.”

  “Uh, sir, you have to talk to them.”

  “No, I don’t,” JJ said.

  “Yes, sir, you do. And you must do the State of the Union address. The Congress and the whole country is expecting it.”

  JJ slammed his hand on the desk and the card tower tumbled across the polished surface and onto the floor. “I do not have to do it! I’m the President! I make all the rules.” He whined as he looked down. “Now look at what you made me do. This is all your fault, Thompson. Leave. You’re fired.”

  Thompson sighed. “Again, sir? Fine. I’ll be back in an hour.”

  JJ mumbled to himself as he picked up the business cards and sat down as he started to build the tower once more.

  Thompson shook his head and left the room.

  * * *

  Dr. Willoughby had been called in to check the President’s medication levels and some adjustments were made. The man that walked into the chamber to give the State of the Union address barely resembled the man who had recently been building a card house on his desk. Introductions were made and he took his place at the podium, the teleprompter flashing in front of him.

  “My fellow Americans,” he began, then read through the first few minutes of the prepared speech. He paused and leaned one arm on the podium as he looked at the camera and not at the prompter. “You know what? We’re the greatest country in the world. We have the best land, the best people, and it’s all because of people like me.” He leaned back then, hands curled against the sides of the podium. “People with magic have made this country great.” Gasps echoed through the chamber. “Yes, magic. Controlling your impulses, protecting you against those who would have corrupted our great country. Magic and my ability to wield it is just one example. There are thousands of us who have gifts and powers beyond your understanding. Be grateful! If not for me…”

  Edmund finally made his way up to the podium with Dr. Willoughby and they got JJ to turn to speak to them. Secret Service got the live feed shut down and commercials were run.

  “Mr. President,” Edmund said. “You can’t be talking about this. It’s not safe.”

  “I’m the President. I can talk about whatever I want,” JJ argued.

  “No, sir, you cannot. We don’t discuss magic with mundanes, you know this,” Edmund whispered in his ear.

  “I’m the greatest president this country has ever seen and they all deserve to know why,” JJ roared, the mics and those nearby hearing every bit of that sentence.

  Willoughby sighed and with a nod from Edmund, he jabbed JJ once more. Agents lifted JJ over to a stretcher and he was taken from the chamber.

  Edmund leaned over to whisper to the Speaker of the House who nodded back at him as he turned and stepped up to the podium. A nod to the cameras and he took a deep breath. “The recent illness the President suffered caused him to be put on medication that has, it appears, caused a bad reaction. He is being flown to Walter Reed Hospital where his personal physician and specialists will evaluate him. Keep our President in your prayers. Good night.”

  Edmund turned and stepped down to polite applause, exiting the room with Patrick at his side. They stepped into a smaller room where the Speaker of the House joined them.

  “Well, Matthews, it looks like you’re acting President once more. This time, it just might stick. We can’t have a raving lunatic in the White House.”

  “Yes, Madame Speaker. I had hoped Willoughby had balanced his medication by now. Perhaps the mental illness his father suffered is a family trait?” Edmund replied.

  “It’s starting to look that way,” the Speaker said. “Well, I’ll get my update in the morning. Go get some sleep. You’ve got a seat to fill tomorrow.” She paused and glanced back at him. “Congratulations on your upcoming wedding. That’s next week, correct?”

  “Yes, Madame Speaker. Six days from today,” Edmund said.

  “I’m looking forward to it. Goodnight, gentlemen.”

  The room slowly emptied and Patrick turned to Edmund. “See? I told you. First Partner.” They both chuckled wearily before following their agents out to the car to take them back to the Observatory. It was going to be a very long week.

  * * *

  The news the next morning was all about Jackson and his raving about magic. The magical community was furious and doing its best to not overreact, but word had spread that if Jackson was put back as President, they’d have to permanently remove him.

  Emlen and Cullen shared breakfast in silence as they watched the various reports. As they finished, Emlen picked up the dishes and brought the coffee pot back to refresh their cups.

  “So, what are you thinking?” Cullen finally asked her. “You’ve been awful quiet.”

  Emlen shrugged. “I’m not sure. I mean, yeah, I feel bad because I wonder if I’m not partly responsible for him going crazy. He didn’t really go wholly over the edge until Tina talked to him. I guess her being killed when he was a kid really messed him up more than anyone thought.”

  “It seems that way, yeah. But he also just lost his father and had a ton of unresolved issues with the man, then lost his right hand guy, Dunleavy. Never mind the whole Order leadership getting blown up in one night. Well, all but JJ and that one old guy in London who had a heart attack and died after watching the whole thing on camera,” Cullen said. “You cannot take the blame for this, Em. I love that you’re kind hearted enough to actually feel sorry for the asshole, but it’s not all on you.”

  Cullen leaned over and gave her a soft kiss. “Let it go, love. He’s doing for us what we needed to get done. He’s not going to be able to stay President and he’ll probably end up locked up like his
father. Out of power and out of our way.” He paused and looked at his phone. “Don’t you have training with Ryan and Kian in ten minutes? Better get moving.”

  Em groaned and finished her coffee. “Yeah, but at least they’ve promised me something different this time. Not sure what, but as long as it’s not more Krav Maga I’ll be happy.”

  A few minutes later, Em stood outside in the field behind the house with Ryan and Kian. They’d set up metal posts with three discs on each post to resemble head, chest, and legs. There were eight of them placed at various angles and distances.

  Ryan jogged up to where she stood with Kian, a huge grin on his face. “Ready for some fun?”

  Em still looked confused. “What am I doing, jousting? I don’t get it.”

  Kian laughed. “Fireball target practice. We figured you were getting sick of shooting at a brick wall and this way you can practice a bit more realistically.”

  “Oh, now that’s a good idea,” Emlen said. “Okay, you guys stay behind me. I don’t know how good my aim is going to be at first.” They moved to stand behind her and to each side as Em closed her eyes and took a couple of slow breaths. Centered and focused, she felt the tingling energy building in her core, then as she focused on the closest target, her hand came up, palm out, and a pulse of energy flew at the disks. The center disk on the closest target changed from silver to black.

  “Direct hit!” Kian called out.

  “I had Stefan charm them so that a glancing blow turns it red, a direct hit, black.” Ryan said.

  “Now that is awesome,” Em said and took a few more shots. “The head shots are harder, I keep getting red on those. But now I can finesse my aim with practice.” She turned and hugged Ryan first, then Kian. “You guys are the best.”

  “Yeah, we know,” Ryan said as he gave Kian a high-five. “So, while we’re gone, you keep practicing. The colors will reset after about thirty minutes.”

  “What do you mean, while you’re gone?”

  “Kian and I are headed to Dublin the day after the wedding to check on the financial trail from the E Street bombing. Connor and Thomas asked us to take a look since I used to work in financial terrorism and Kian’s a signals guy.”

  “Well, you guys stay safe. And Ryan, if you want to bring your ex to the wedding, you can. I know you’re still friends,” Emlen said.

  “Gina would love to come. She’s doing well in Boston, but a long weekend in DC would be fun for us both. I’ll see what she says,” Ryan replied.

  “What about you, Kian?” Em asked. “You bringing anyone?”

  “Hell no,” Kian laughed. “Weddings are the best place to pick up girls.”

  “Okay, go on, you two. I’m going to practice a little more before I go back into the office. Thanks, guys. I mean it. Between the two of you, I’ve grown as a magician and a person,” Em told them. They waved her off with smiles as they headed back in and Em turned to the targets. This was going to be fun.

  Chapter 10

  The day of the wedding dawned clear and bright. A rain shower the night before left everything with that fresh-washed feeling. Cooler temperatures but not cold had Emlen happy she wouldn’t be chilled in her gown.

  The antique lace and satin had been cleaned, mended, and fit her like a glove. High neck, long sleeves that ended in points over her hands, a fitted bodice and tucked waist that spilled into a narrow bell-shaped skirt with a short train. The original veil fell to her waist, held into her thick auburn hair with a jeweled clip. Cream satin kitten heels, the antique amethyst set from the Emmerson side that brought out the clear violet hue of her eyes and a lace-edged handkerchief that had been her grandmother Simone’s, completed the picture. She’d had her hair put up in a modernized Gibson girl style with ringlet tendrils and jeweled pins. As she stood in front of the full-length mirror, the ghosts of her mother, Camille and her grandmother, Simone, stood with her. Eileen O’Brien and Susan fussed about the room before Susan handed her the bouquet of peach and cream roses with tiny fronds of wheat and trails of ivy tangling with peach and cream silk ribbon.

  “You look incredible,” Simone said, eyes bright as she took in the vision of her granddaughter. “May you find every happiness, dear girl.”

  “Thank you, Grandma Simone,” Emlen replied.

  Eileen and Susan kissed her cheek and left her to find their seats with a few last words of love and encouragement. Simone faded away and left Emlen alone with her mother.

  Camille gently hugged Emlen and kissed her cheek. “My beautiful daughter. You’ve made me so proud in so many ways, but seeing you here today, ready to promise yourself to the love of your life? That makes my heart so full. You’ve come so far, Em. From that hurt, bitter girl who did whatever she wanted, regardless of the consequences, to a woman who fights for those she loves and for what is right. I love you so much, Emlen. I’ll be watching this whole day and soaking up all of the love and beauty. Shine, my girl. Let them see your incredible light.”

  Emlen made sure to breathe through the threatened tears. “Mom, you’re gonna make me cry and ruin my makeup.” They both laughed and Em leaned over to kiss Camille’s cheek. “I love you, Mom. I am really glad you’re here with me.”

  “Always, my girl. Until we both decide it’s time for me to move on, I’ll always be with you.”

  The sound of trumpets drifted through the open french doors and James O’Brien knocked before he poked his head around. “Ready, my girl?”

  “Ready, Da,” Em replied and walked towards him. A black tux with white vest and tie and a peach rose boutonniere for the men looked sharp on James. Em slid her hand over his arm and whispered, “Don’t let me trip, Da. I don’t need that flashed across the globe.”

  James chuckled low and patted her hand. “I’d never let you down, my girl. My daughter at last.”

  Em reached up and kissed his cheek as they waited for the music to change. A white aisle runner stretched from the building to the arch where Mari and Connor, acting as matron of honor and best man, stood beside clergy from the National Cathedral. Cullen stood near the center, dressed like his father and brother, with a white rose in his lapel. Emlen’s eyes locked with Cullen’s and neither seemed to see anyone else as she slowly approached. James kissed Emlen’s cheek, then stepped back to stand in the front row next to Eileen before everyone sat.

  Emlen handed her bouquet to Mari and turned to take Cullen’s hands in hers. He met her gaze and whispered, “You look incredible.”

  The bishop welcomed family and friends before she announced that the couple had written their own vows. Emlen and Cullen stared into each other’s eyes and spoke together.

  “Above us are the moons and stars, below us are the stones, as time does pass, I will remember. Like a stone should our love be firm. Like a star should our love be constant. Let the powers of the mind and of the intellect guide us. Let the strength of our wills bind us together. Let the power of love and desire make us happy, and the strength of our dedication make us inseparable. Be close, but not too close. Possess one another, yet be understanding. Have patience with one another, for storms will come, but they will pass quickly. Be free in giving affection and warmth, for love endures all things.”

  They were each then asked if they took the other and each said “I do.”

  Connor handed them the rings and in less than fifteen minutes, they were pronounced husband and wife. A kiss and they made their way back down the aisle to the applause and good wishes of the four hundred people filling the seats around them.

  They stopped under the roof overhang and kissed again before walking up the side aisle and taking their seats in the front row. Thomas moved up to stand where Connor had been and Patrick’s brother, Michael, took Mari’s place. Music swelled and everyone rose as first Patrick, walking with his parents and then Edmund, walking with his sister Elaine, made their way up to the bishop. The two stood together and recited a modified version of the traditional vows, naming each other husband and partners in love and
life before they exchanged rings and a kiss. They held hands as they made their way back up the aisle to cheers and applause. Emlen and Cullen met them at the back where the attendants and families gathered for the photo shoot while the guests went inside to the reception.

  They’d laughed a lot during the photo shoot and made their grand entrances into the reception with bright smiles and joyous hearts. The White House chefs had outdone themselves with two cakes and an exquisite menu. Everything seemed perfect, except for the few muttered comments about President Jackson missing his daughter’s wedding. After about the fifth carefully whispered pity comment, Emlen got to her feet and tapped her glass with a spoon until the room was mostly silent. “Thank you all for coming to share this wonderful day with us. However, as you all know, President Jackson has been ill. Yes, his absence is felt, but as you also know, we didn’t know each other until about a year ago. The man who walked me down the aisle is not only the father of my heart, but now my father by marriage. I could not be more satisfied with how the day has gone and wish President Jackson all the healing he deserves.”

  As she took her seat once more, a light smattering of applause rang out and people soon found other things to discuss.

  “Nicely phrased,” Mira commented from beside her. “May the Powers that Be hear your prayer.” They both started to laugh softly and Mira shook her head. “We didn’t want to do the official change over until after the wedding, but Edmund is going to be sworn in as President. Jackson is too far gone to serve any longer. I got the word last night that he is entering long-term psychiatric care.”

  “I hate to say it, but I’m glad. We needed him out and now he’s out. But what if he influences someone with his telepathy to let him go?”

  “PLEA has a neuroblocker that works on telepaths. He’s getting regular doses so he can’t use his gift.”

  Emlen let out a breath and relaxed. “Good. Best news I’ve heard in a while.”

  James approached the table and held out his hand to Emlen. “Ready for the father – daughter dance, little one?”