Wilde Omens Read online

  I stared at her, anticipation roiling in my stomach. “Enough. What did they want to invite me to?”

  My mother brushed back her bangs, a nervous habit she’d had since I was a kid.

  She was about to lie to me.

  “A graduate program. They’ve seen your grades and wish to talk to you about attending their school.” She sounded so calm and poised.

  I tilted my head in curiosity. “A graduate program?” Something wasn’t adding up. I could understand if I was a star athlete or something of importance, but I’d heeded my mother’s words throughout college. Keep your head low and stay out of the spotlight.

  She nodded. “Something with social sciences.”

  “You should have told me.” I was beginning to suspect she should have told me lots of things.

  A weak smile formed across her lips. “I know, honey. I’m sorry. I just wanted you local.” She wiped her hands across her skirts. “I’ve gotten so used to having you home, I’m not sure if I could bear you leaving me to go out of state.”

  She walked over to me, her long skirts swishing against her legs, and took me in her embrace.

  I sighed and hugged her back.

  Eventually I would find out what she was hiding. Until then I would keep close watch.

  I watched through the window as I got my ass kicked by Watson. It was informative and I wondered if I could sneak away again to watch myself. It felt like those football players watching movies of themselves to see how they could improve their game. I saw my face set in a mutinous glare as I bobbed and weaved, trying to get away from his fists. What I hadn’t seen yesterday was Watson’s expressions of fierce annoyance and his split second decision to grab the knuckle stun gun from a chair a few feet behind him.

  “Whoa,” I murmured. My speed had nothing on Watson’s. I hadn’t even seen him move that fast yesterday because his punches kept coming and coming. He’d actually stepped away from me, grabbed the stun gun, put it on, and used it on me in a matter of seconds. I winced as I watched myself fly against the wall. Watson stared at me for a moment, a strange expression on his face. I saw my opportunity and rapped lightly on the glass.

  His eyes flew to the glass and widened in shock. Watson glanced over to my prone body once and hurried to the door. He slipped out and opened his mouth to yell at me, I assumed.

  I held two fingers up to his lip. “I already know. Shut up for a minute. This is a serious emergency. Tomorrow morning, there will be an attack on the compound. I know very little details, but I do know everyone, and I mean everyone, is down for the count.”

  He closed his mouth and I took my fingers away. “What time?” His gaze flashed with anger.

  I shook my head. “I’m not exactly sure. I got up at four and went to the dining hall for coffee. No one was awake anywhere. I overheard two people, one male and one female talking. They were looking for me.”

  His mouth tightened. “Did you know them?”

  “Not the man. The woman was Lila.”

  Watson cursed. “Go to your father’s office. I’ll be there shortly.”

  I glanced once more at myself lying prone against the wall. “You jerk.”

  Watson laughed in surprise. “You deserved it. Now, go.”

  I hurried away from Watson’s quarters to find my father’s office. Even though I was getting used to the winding hallways, I never quite remembered where Holmes kept his quarters. I wandered for a bit until I heard the ever-familiar sound of clocks. I swung open the heavy wooden doors and walked through the room. It seemed like forever since I’d teleported with my father into this room. The sound didn’t freak me out anymore. Instead, it soothed me in a way no music ever could. I trailed my fingers over one of the tables full of wooden cuckoo clocks and smiled as one of them spit out its bird and squawked at me.

  I stopped at the silver machine I’d been so curious about at the beginning of my journey. It still looked the same as it had when I’d first come through here, except an additional panel of buttons had been added. Holmes sure liked his buttons. One day I’d get a closer look at his stuff and see exactly what I was dealing with. Now, considering I’d just fled the scene of a potential kidnapping, I just needed to make Watson listen and come up with a plan for tomorrow. Or today. Whatever. One day, this would all seem normal to me.

  I knocked lightly on the door of my father’s study and pushed it open when there was no response. I made myself at home in the familiar wingback chair and waited for Watson. If things went the same as they’d gone yesterday, I’d be up and angry in a few minutes and he’d be lecturing me on the state of everything.

  Feeling a little naughty, I kicked my feet up on Holmes’ desk and sighed in content. I was curious about a lot of things around here and those two were notoriously tight-lipped about everything. I knew I didn’t have time to snoop around, but I could sneak a peek at Daddy Dearest’s desk. I swung my feet down and peered over the edge of his massive mahogany desk. Papers were scattered around, some with chemical formulas on them that looked like something having to do with physics, but the one that caught my eye had my name scrawled across the top.

  My fingers reached out to touch it when the knob turned on the door. I snatched my hand back, kicked my feet back up and pretended to be nonchalant, even though I was dying to have a looksie in that folder. Maybe I could get Watson out of my hair long enough for me to swipe it. A hint of a smile tugged at my mouth, but I quickly squashed it. I was supposed to be properly terrified. I sat up straight and turned to Watson.

  He came around and sat opposite me in the other chair.

  “Tell me everything,” he said in that clipped accent I’d grown so accustomed to.

  I’d told him mostly everything a few minutes ago, but I started from the beginning and went slowly through every detail. Watson would stop me occasionally to ask quick, pointed questions, but it was a quick in and out for me. I came, I heard, I ran.

  “What did the man sound like?” He leaned forward and stared at me intently.

  I could understand if the guy had a voice like Kermit the Frog, that would be easily identifiable, but he sounded like every other dude I’d heard on the street.

  I shrugged. “Like normal?” It was supposed to be a statement, but came out more like a question.

  He shook his head in annoyance. “British, American, what was he?”

  “Oh, American definitely.”

  “Did he sound like he was from any particular region?”

  I’d only heard him say one sentence. I thought about it for a moment. “Definitely not Southern. Not East Coast either.” I gave him a plaintive look. “Sorry, that’s the best I can do. I know Texas and I know Jersey. He didn’t sound like either of those.”

  “It will have to do. Are you certain the woman’s voice was Lila’s?”

  “Quite,” I said shortly, annoyed he doubted me. “What do we need to do?”

  Watson frowned. “I wish I knew what they used to disable the compound.” Watson’s brows knitted together. “And why are you still awake?”

  I lifted my hands and shrugged. I had no idea either.

  “Your bloodwork came back negative, right?”

  I nodded. “Just two knockout drugs, one Ether and the other GHB.” I tried not to shudder. GHB was terrible stuff and when I thought about all the things Aaron could have done to me while I was knocked out, it made me sick. I hated to give him any credit at all, especially after he left me unconscious in the driveway, but it could have been so much worse.

  Watson made a noise deep in his throat and contemplated me. “Nothing else then? You’re sure?”

  “As sure as I can be when Holmes is the one who told me. I haven’t seen any clinical paperwork yet.”

  My gaze slid of its own volition to the folder on his desk. Now I was really curious about what was inside of that folder, especially since Watson seemed to insinuate I’d been dosed with something else to keep me from being affected by whatever Lila had used.

  I did
n’t want to think about this because I didn’t want to think about Aaron or even Cass as being good guys. But if they did do it, I was probably alive and safe because of one or both of them. Fortunately, my quarters had been moved, but they would have eventually found me and heaven only knows what would have happened after that.

  “What do they want from me?”

  The door opened again and my father strode in, filthy with soot and God only knows what else. He lifted those freaky goggles off his face and grinned at me, his teeth and eyes the only color on his face. “I suspect they need more of your blood, love.”

  My eyes widened. “Why? They took a pint!” My voice was getting shrieky, but I couldn’t help it.

  Holmes pulled his blackened gloves off and threw them on top of his desk. He went around to the back of it and collapsed in his chair. “They certainly did.” He studied me for a moment, the smile still on his face. “My experiment worked.”

  I blinked, and carefully controlled my expression. “What experiment?” I said in as neutral of a tone as I could manage.

  Watson stiffened beside me. When Holmes didn’t immediately offer an expression, Watson spoke. “Holmes,” he began in a deadly tone, “what experiment?”

  My father waved away his concerns. “Oh, relax, you two.”

  Easy for him to say. “Elaborate,” I said.

  He leaned back in his chair and plopped his feet up on his desk, much like I had a few moments ago. “COTO, specifically Lila, does not have a sample of the serum. Until they can get it, they will be forced to try to recreate it using their best guess. You, my dear, presented a perfect opportunity because you are a walking, talking immortality time bomb. The serum runs through your veins. It’s encoded into your DNA. It has shaped you and molded you and will continue to do so for the rest of time.”

  My heart sped up. I knew I was immortal, but so far, I didn’t really like being reminded of how long I was going to be alive. “And? Can we please get to the point of why someone is trying to kidnap me out of my own bed?”

  “As a precaution, I encoded a program into the serum that destroys the blood if anyone tampers with it.” He paused for a moment. “It didn’t work at first. I tested it over and over, and it still continued to decompose at the normal rate. I tested my blood, John’s blood, and your mother’s blood. The results are all the same. However, that was over a hundred years ago and we’ve seen how the serum continues to adapt. My guess is their samples were destroyed and they need more.”

  I was trying to process this special kind of crazy when something occurred to me. “If they were going to risk breaking into your compound, why would they want me? Why wouldn’t they just take the serum?”

  My father’s smile sharpened. “Because it isn’t here. It’s never been here and COTO knows it.”

  “Where is it?” I asked, curious now.

  “It’s not the right time to tell you. Watson and I are the only two people who know its location.”

  “Why isn’t anyone trying to kidnap you two?” I grumbled.

  “We’ve had hundreds of years of experience in martial arts and evasion techniques. You, my dear, might be highly intelligent, but you are still green as a seedling in this world. You present a delicious opportunity for those wishing to get their hands on the fountain of youth. This is why it was imperative you live here instead of out in the world. They would have found you sooner rather than later.”

  “Comforting.” I thought about my mother and wondered if I would ever see her again. I wondered how she explained to my father about the immortality serum. I wondered if he’d forgive her. I thought about my job, the years I’d spent hiding my intelligence from others. I wondered what kind of life I would have had if I’d only let my star shine.

  I looked at my filthy father and wondered how he spent his days, if he was happy, if he wished he’d done it all different, or if he was content with the loss of my mother, me, and love in his life. And Watson...he was an enigma. At times, caring and sweet, and at other times, a force of nature, I wondered about him too. I didn’t know the full story about what happened with him and my father, but I hoped one day he’d trust me enough to tell me. I wondered if he was happy enough.

  Watson spoke. “It was the only way, Penelope.”

  I swallowed and nodded once, hard. “I know. Now, what do we need to do to fix this?”

  Chapter 21

  The plan was simple, yet epically complicated because of the high odds of it going terribly wrong. Watson would show me how to get his door open and I was supposed to inject him with something that would wake him up out of just about anything. I eyed the massive syringe with more than a little trepidation and rolled it back into the soft leather pouch Watson had given me.

  It was too dangerous for him to accompany me back, especially with Lila and the other mystery guy prowling the hall. Considering I needed him awake, he would have to be there at the door with me, and if Watson somehow woke up and saw himself, apparently the universe could implode or something. I’d get used to time travel soon enough, but right now, I wasn’t so sure why it would be such a big deal. When I expressed this to Watson, he gave me an infuriating pat on the head.

  But before all that, Watson would make sure I had a couple of loaded weapons and one of those handy dandy stun guns I could wear and hopefully not electrocute myself with. See, this was the problem with being book smart instead of common sense smart. I had no actual training with weapons of any kind and even though I could pick up a book, read, and learn about them with relative ease, it wouldn’t help me when I got thrown on my ass due to the kick of the gun. This was when application was important. Knowing all the parts of an assault rifle and having the assembly and disassembly committed to memory didn’t help me when I actually had to pull the trigger. It was loud and dangerous and bullets spilled out and burned the crap out of you.

  “Are you really sure I need guns?”

  Watson gave me an annoyed stare. “Not at all. If you like waking up in the driveway, I don’t think you need to worry about them at all.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him. “Fine. But at least take me through one round of shooting.”

  “As you wish,” he said and stood to usher me out of the room.

  I got a little weak-kneed at his comment and tried not to smile. The Princess Bride was one of my favorite movies, but the odds of Watson having ever seen it were next to non-existent. I could still pretend he was my Westley and I was his Buttercup, though. I said a quick goodbye to my father, who, for some reason, didn’t look concerned at all, and followed Watson down the hall. When we reached the front door, I stared at him quizzically.

  “Why are we here?”

  He pulled open the door. “The gun range is outside.”

  Of course it was. Was it weird that I’d never seen anyone go out these doors during the daytime in the entire time I was here? I swallowed my comments, shrugged, and followed him outside. He took me by the elbow gently and led me to the back of the house where a golf cart awaited. I’m not sure why this made me laugh, but it did.

  Even Watson got a sheepish look on his face. “It’s not cool all the time,” he admitted.

  I got in and sat on the squishy white bench seat. “It’s nice to feel normal again,” I admitted. Even something as lame as a golf cart was enough to send a pang of homesickness through my body.

  He gave me a sidelong glance. “I’m sorry this had to be your new normal.” Watson’s hands curled around the steering wheel as he folded himself into the cart. A quick turn of the switch and we were off, the uneven terrain jostling us every few seconds.

  “It could be worse,” I admitted.

  A smile tugged at his mouth. “Oh?”

  I answered the smile and snorted. “Maybe not.”

  A full laugh erupted from him, and the effect of it shimmied from my head straight down to my toes. “You should laugh more,” I said before my brain caught up to my heart.

  Silence fell over the cart. His hands cl
enched the steering wheel tighter, but relaxed after a moment. “I don’t find much to laugh about these days.”

  I put a hesitant hand on his arm. “I know this isn’t the right time or the right place, but I hope one day we can be…” I paused.

  “Friends?” he said. His eyes crinkled in amusement. “I don’t make friends.”

  “Surely you do,” I said, feeling outraged on his behalf.

  “Penelope, you don’t know what this life is like yet. When you’ve lived hundreds of years, watched those you love die, and have seen the kinds of evil this world can create and manifest, then you’d be in a better position to judge me.” He took an abrupt left and floored the gas down. Ahead of us loomed a wooden structure partitioned into separate areas.

  My mouth dropped in shock. “I’m not judging you!”

  “Of course you are. If I were you, I would too.” He turned the switch off and exited the cart. “We need to hurry and get you back.” From the back, he lifted the extra seat and pulled out two large gun holders and a small duffel bag. “Come on.”

  I wanted to keep talking to him, make him see I was only trying to understand him, but Watson was done with the conversation and back into business mode. I rushed to catch up to his long stride. This could wait until later. For now, we had to stop Lila.

  Shooting guns was absolutely orgasmic. Terrified at first, I held the gun all wrong, my hands shook, and the first fired bullet went way left and into the wall instead of the target. When Watson came behind to put me in the proper position, like every teenage movie on the planet, I became even more apprehensive.

  Even though he wasn’t touching me, I felt him. Every inch of him. My throat tightened and my gun hand shook.

  “Relax,” he whispered through the mic in my hearing protection. He stepped closer to me until I could feel the warmth of his body against my back. He took both of my arms, adjusted them to the right height, and took my hands. “Proper gun grip is imperative. Your gun replaces your pointer finger, so it’s essential you hold it properly. The way you hold a gun affects your aim and your balance.” He adjusted my hands so my right curled around the grip of the gun and my left curled around my other hand. He took the thumb of the hand gripping the gun and moved it downward, away from the slide. The other thumb on the support hand was adjusted below the slide and pointed forward. “Always make sure your hand is off the trigger until you’re ready to fire.”