Until the Beginning

“Oh, Juneau. You could have saved me so much trouble by staying under my roof. If you had cooperated, I would have been happy to help your people escape from Avery. But as things are, I’m going to need all of my resources getting you away from here and won’t be able to help them.”

 

 

“What are you doing here?” I ask, still incredulous that these two separate worlds are colliding.

 

“O’Donnell here’s been very generous with information about you—since the very beginning, isn’t that right, O’Donnell? Otherwise, I would never have known how important you were and would have gone after Whit instead. Not that he’s not important, too, of course. Where is he now?”

 

“Back at Avery’s ranch house,” says O’Donnell from behind me.

 

Blackwell nods thoughtfully. “Well, Juneau, let’s not beat around the bush this time. Would you like to tell me why you’re so necessary? Just what part do you play in the making of Amrit?”

 

I glare at him, wishing he were a few inches closer so I could head-butt him.

 

“Claiming the First, are you? You, then, O’Donnell—have you figured out why Juneau here is so important?” he asks, though he’s still looking directly at me.

 

“Yes, sir. When Mr. Graves was fixing the Amrit to give to Avery,” my guard begins.

 

Blackwell cuts him off. “What?” he bellows.

 

“Mr. Avery insisted that Mr. Graves try the Amrit out on him as soon as Juneau arrived.”

 

Blackwell stands there looking horrified, and then regains his composure. “That crazy bastard,” he says, rubbing his chin with his hand. “Trust Avery to test a new drug on himself . . . I’ve never known anyone so obsessed with death. How long ago was the drug administered?”

 

“Approximately three hours ago.”

 

Blackwell calculates. “Delightful,” he says. “That buys us a little more time, then, doesn’t it? Go on, O’Donnell. You were saying . . .”

 

The guard starts his story over. “When Mr. Graves prepared the ingredients for the drug, he cut the girl’s hand and added her blood to it.”

 

A light goes on in Mr. Blackwell’s eyes. “Aha! The magic ingredient. Graves mentioned that something in the formula was so rare that a synthetic replacement would need to be found. So it’s blood. But not just any blood. What’s so special about you, Juneau, that no one else in the clan could provide the missing ingredient?”

 

I narrow my eyes and remain silent.

 

He ignores my reticence. “That’s why Graves insisted that Avery get him Juneau. Because the formula doesn’t work without her vital input!” Blackwell laughs.

 

“I don’t suppose you know how to make Amrit by yourself?” Blackwell asks me.

 

“No,” I lie. “Whit always prepares it.”

 

Blackwell nods. “Just as I thought. Well, you’ll need to go back to get him,” he says, giving O’Donnell an impatient look.

 

“What?” O’Donnell asks uncertainly. “You only said you wanted the girl. And you told me you’d take me with you. I can’t go back there without her.”

 

“Who’s going to care?” Blackwell asks. “Avery’s unconscious.”

 

“My boss is watching Mr. Graves. The two of us were ordered to keep them in the house until Avery wakes up. He’s not going to let me come in without the girl and demand the other hostage as well.”

 

“Then I suppose you’ll need to use force,” Blackwell responds with a blithe shrug.

 

Sensing O’Donnell’s confusion, I take the chance to try to jerk out of his grasp again. To no effect. He gives a grunt of frustration and asks, “Can I cuff her?”

 

“Yes,” Blackwell says.

 

O’Donnell lets go with one hand, and cold metal clamps around my wrists with a disturbing clicking noise, fastening my hands behind my back. He steps to my side, grasping me by the upper arm. “We’ve got twenty-five fully armed men in the barracks behind the ranch house,” he explains. “If my boss called for them, two dozen men would be on top of me and Graves within minutes.”

 

“Well, we wouldn’t want to cause a fuss,” says Blackwell, looking annoyed. “Why don’t I come back with you and see if I can speak some sense to your colleague. I suppose he might be open to the same sort of deal you were?”

 

“Who wouldn’t be?” says O’Donnell, looking relieved. I wonder just how much Mr. Blackwell has given this man to play double agent for him. “But if anyone sees us coming . . .”

 

“You’ll just say that I’m a guest of Mr. Avery’s who arrived early for a hunt. Why would anyone question that?”

 

O’Donnell thinks it over and finally nods his agreement. “You going to leave her in the plane?” he asks.

 

“I will not be leaving this young lady’s side for even an instant,” Blackwell says, eyeing me once again. “Not until I have what I want from her. She’s entirely too slippery to be entrusted to anyone else.”

 

Blackwell turns toward the plane and gestures toward two other men who have come down the steps and are standing side by side, awaiting his orders. They walk past us and get into the vehicle. “But . . . ,” O’Donnell says, dumbfounded. “What are they doing?”

 

“Coming with us,” Blackwell says. “Don’t tell me Avery’s clients never bring their own security details.”

 

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