Because he’s watching you, Megglet, a small voice sneered in her ear. And it doesn’t really matter which ‘he’ we’re talking about, does it? Pick your poison, Pretty. Tthe insane blood-lusting scientist slash DNA donor, Dr. Daddy Williams or the Scotch drinking psychopath slash senator slash would-be world leader Master Monarch!
Meg winced as though physically struck. She slinked down against the wall hosting the camera and pulled her long legs up trying to make herself as small as possible. Her heart thrashed violently against her ribs. Even over the sound of it in her ears she could now hear a soft humming from the equipment in the wall at her back.
What do I do? Did I juice the cameras when I turned on the solar panels? How could I be so stupid? Oh God, why didn’t I stay away until the others were here? I was so sure I was powerful enough to control what happened next. What a fool. And now, he’s coming for me! I can’t do this alone anymore. Damn it, what do I do?
She bit back a sob and inhaled a shaky breath as she tried desperately to control her self-talk.
Nothing was working.
She was spinning.
Her thoughts a frantic carousel with violent images—a screaming calliope of all her fears, self-doubts and insecurities breaking her will until a single thought rose above the others.
I’ll tell you why you’re in a meltdown, you sniveling, overconfident, freak: Because for the first time since this whole battle began, you self-righteously believed you’d have a happy ending. The whole family fighting side by side and standing triumphantly over the fallen antagonists—wind blowing through your hair, fists raised in victory. You and your pretty little make-believe, girl warrior turned fairy princess world, the voice sneered. Your happily ever after is going to look a lot different. Your enemies are far more likely to find you alone tonight and rip you limb from limb—the prize in a demon dog fight.
Brace yourself baby. Your end is nigh.
38 Through the Looking Glass
Meg had been staring at her dusty footprint on the kitchen floor, holding herself as still as a stone.
The internal voice had been pouring poison into her mind for five minutes straight and it wasn’t letting up. On the contrary, the voice became more condemning with every minute.
She forced herself to blink.
When she opened her eyes small embers of fight sparked in them. She locked her jaw and narrowed her eyes angrily.
“That’s enough!” she hissed, cutting off the internal voice of defeat.
She uncurled her body from the fetal position it had held during the hateful self-condemnation. Arms that had wrapped themselves around her folded legs unraveled. Hands moved to the ground on either side of her hips.
With every movement, her courage grew.
“Get up, Meg,” she ordered herself. With white knuckles, she pushed off the ground until she stood shoulders back, chin held high in defiance.
“You have a battle to prepare for. Get your ass moving.” She filled her lungs with air and pushed away from the wall.
Go, just move, she chanted to herself as she strode across the room to the back door that led to the attached garage. The space was neatly organized thanks to Evan. She knew exactly what she wanted; she grabbed the garden wagon and started loading it with supplies. She moved with efficiency, gathering two and three things at once making plans as she went.
She looked around once more before grabbing a heavy hammer and tossing it onto the pile.
Outside, the wind picked up. An Arctic cold front was blowing in causing the temperature to drop dramatically, the way it could only do in Texas. Meg was so focused on her work, she ignored the cold trying to creep into her fingertips.
She rolled the wagon back into the kitchen, yanked the wooden-handled hammer off the top of the heap and walked right up to the large, spying mirror.
In a loud voice, to be heard clearly into the hidden audio equipment, she spoke directly into her reflection. “I know you’ve been watching me, and that you’re coming for me. Well, keep your eyes open, you bastard. I have something to show you!” Meg smiled, lifted the hammer over her shoulder like a baseball bat and swung. The mirror and the camera behind it screamed as it shattered. Meg saw the small green LED light on the camera flicker once before going black.
Nodding with satisfaction, she scanned the room for any other reflective surfaces. Not seeing any, she grabbed the broom and dustpan from the pantry and quickly swept the shards of glass. She didn’t bother finding the other cameras throughout the house. Move! she yelled at herself. She just needed one temperature-controlled room blacked-out to prepare for what she instinctively knew would be their final battle.
39 The Enemy of My Enemy
Senator Donovan Arkdone’s cell phone vibrated an alert. A quick glance at the screen had his eyes bright with excitement. Anxiously, he opened the attachment, enlarged the images and turned on the audio. He had to control his urge to whoop at what he saw.