Wildfire
Page 83
He stared at me.
“The Office of Records sent Michael to kill her, but I talked them out of it, because she’s my grandmother and because she pushed me out of the way when one of Sturm’s thugs tried to kill me. She was bleeding from her shoulder and I couldn’t bring myself to watch Michael fry her to death. I now owe them a favor.”
Rogan’s face snapped into an impenetrable mask.
“Connor . . .”
He held up his hand. I shut up. He clearly needed a minute.
Rogan looked at me, opened his mouth to say something, clamped it shut, and shook his head wordlessly. A terrible internal struggle was taking place.
“Use your words,” Kyle suggested helpfully.
Rogan glared at him for a second, then looked back at me. “It’s nice that you saved your grandmother, but if she ever comes for you, I’ll kill her.”
“She won’t hurt me. I’m family.”
Rogan made a noise that might have been a snarl or a growl, it was hard to tell, and pulled out his phone.
“Good afternoon, Keeper,” he said. “Due to unprecedented circumstances, I, as a witness, urge the Office to move up the Baylor trials. Ms. Baylor and her family will need the immunity immediately. . . . Yes, related to the I-10 incident. . . . Yes.” He turned to me. “Will Arabella register? Say yes.”
I hesitated.
“If she demonstrates ability to reason during the trial, her status as a Prime of your House will protect her from federal authorities. Otherwise, they will take her into custody under the Danger to Public Act,” Rogan said.
“Yes.” She would be overjoyed.
“She will register. . . . Sealed demonstration. . . . Thank you.”
He hung up and pulled up another number. “Mother? I have a favor to ask. I’m sending a young girl to you by car. Could you please keep her hidden until I come to get her? . . . No, she isn’t my secret love child. I’ll explain later. Thank you.”
He dialed a third number. I heard Sergeant Heart’s crisp hello.
“We’re about to get federal visitors. Lock it down. Nobody goes in, nobody goes out, nobody knows anything.”
He hung up and looked at me. “No more surprises. At least for the next twelve hours.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“You had one job.” My mother fumed. “One.”
Bern, Catalina, and I stood in the kitchen. Grandma Frida sat at the table, resting her chin on her hands, her expression grave. Leon had stormed off because I refused to let him kill Vincent.
“You had to keep her hidden. You know she has no sense. And you failed.”
I waited. There was no point in talking.
Mom glared at us. “Do you have anything to say for yourselves?”
I opened my mouth. Catalina beat me to it. “You let her get into the helicopter.”
Mom blinked. Catalina almost never got into a fight with anyone except Arabella and me.
“I was taking care of Jessica. You let her run out of the house and climb into the helicopter, Mom. What were we supposed to do? Was I supposed to telepathically make her behave? Were Bern and Nevada supposed to magically make her stop while they were being shot at?”
Mom opened her mouth.
“No,” Catalina said. “I’m sick and tired of everyone making excuses for her. She’s special. She’s under a lot of pressure. She’s a spoiled brat who’s used to getting her way. She acts like a five-year-old and you want all of us to compensate. Well, she’s too old for us to do that. I’m not going to listen to any more of this. I’m done. Seriously, I’m fucking done.”
She turned and marched away. A door slammed somewhere. The pressure of the upcoming trials was getting to her.
“What is happening to this family . . .” Grandma Frida murmured.
“Arabella did what you taught her to do,” I said to Mom. “She turned, took care of the problem, saved hundreds of people, turned back, and split. She didn’t linger, she didn’t show off, and she didn’t pose for any photos. She did her job and vanished.”
“Once she got into the helicopter, there was no way to stop her,” Bern said.
My mother landed into a chair. She looked defeated and old, older than I’d ever seen her. It was like being stabbed in the heart. I came over and crouched by her. “Mom?”
She looked at me, glassy-eyed.
“It will be okay.”
Mom didn’t answer.
“Mom? You’re scaring me.”
“I just can’t stop it,” she said softly. “I’ve done everything I can and I can’t keep you all safe.”
I took her hands. “It will be okay. I promise.”
“How?”
“The trials are being moved up. She’ll do a sealed trial, where she will be in front of a small group of witnesses. She’ll demonstrate reason during the trial, which we all know won’t be a problem. She’s still herself when she transforms. She just can’t speak. Once we qualify as a House, she will be protected under Emerging House Law.”
Mom stared at me.
“Emerging House Law states that no member of the House can be pressed into military service or be held by federal, state, or local authorities absent of clear evidence of committing a criminal act,” Bern said. “If we make it as a House, they can’t touch her.”
I wasn’t sure she heard us. “Mom?”
“What if they get her before the trials?”
“They won’t,” I told her. “She’s with Rogan’s mother. They’re not going to violate the privacy of House Rogan. They have no cause and no proof. If they try, she will make them regret it.”
“It will be on TV,” Grandma Frida said.
“Let it be on TV. I trust Rogan and his mother to keep her safe. It will be fine.”
My phone chimed. I answered it.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Rivera said. “We’re ready for you.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I hung up. “I have to go now, but I’ll be back. Don’t worry.” I hugged my mother and went outside. Crossing the street to Rogan’s HQ only took a few seconds, but I wasn’t going to his HQ. I was going to the one-story building behind it. Before Rogan bought it, it held a printing shop, and some traces of it still remained, including the granite counter at the front, now manned by one of Rogan’s employees, a tall, golden-haired woman. I nodded to her and went past her, through the heavy door to a large rectangular room. It had been gutted and painted with charcoal-black chalkboard paint. In the center of the room, Vincent sat, handcuffed to a chair. He saw me and sneered. Apparently, he was back to his old self.
“The Office of Records sent Michael to kill her, but I talked them out of it, because she’s my grandmother and because she pushed me out of the way when one of Sturm’s thugs tried to kill me. She was bleeding from her shoulder and I couldn’t bring myself to watch Michael fry her to death. I now owe them a favor.”
Rogan’s face snapped into an impenetrable mask.
“Connor . . .”
He held up his hand. I shut up. He clearly needed a minute.
Rogan looked at me, opened his mouth to say something, clamped it shut, and shook his head wordlessly. A terrible internal struggle was taking place.
“Use your words,” Kyle suggested helpfully.
Rogan glared at him for a second, then looked back at me. “It’s nice that you saved your grandmother, but if she ever comes for you, I’ll kill her.”
“She won’t hurt me. I’m family.”
Rogan made a noise that might have been a snarl or a growl, it was hard to tell, and pulled out his phone.
“Good afternoon, Keeper,” he said. “Due to unprecedented circumstances, I, as a witness, urge the Office to move up the Baylor trials. Ms. Baylor and her family will need the immunity immediately. . . . Yes, related to the I-10 incident. . . . Yes.” He turned to me. “Will Arabella register? Say yes.”
I hesitated.
“If she demonstrates ability to reason during the trial, her status as a Prime of your House will protect her from federal authorities. Otherwise, they will take her into custody under the Danger to Public Act,” Rogan said.
“Yes.” She would be overjoyed.
“She will register. . . . Sealed demonstration. . . . Thank you.”
He hung up and pulled up another number. “Mother? I have a favor to ask. I’m sending a young girl to you by car. Could you please keep her hidden until I come to get her? . . . No, she isn’t my secret love child. I’ll explain later. Thank you.”
He dialed a third number. I heard Sergeant Heart’s crisp hello.
“We’re about to get federal visitors. Lock it down. Nobody goes in, nobody goes out, nobody knows anything.”
He hung up and looked at me. “No more surprises. At least for the next twelve hours.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“You had one job.” My mother fumed. “One.”
Bern, Catalina, and I stood in the kitchen. Grandma Frida sat at the table, resting her chin on her hands, her expression grave. Leon had stormed off because I refused to let him kill Vincent.
“You had to keep her hidden. You know she has no sense. And you failed.”
I waited. There was no point in talking.
Mom glared at us. “Do you have anything to say for yourselves?”
I opened my mouth. Catalina beat me to it. “You let her get into the helicopter.”
Mom blinked. Catalina almost never got into a fight with anyone except Arabella and me.
“I was taking care of Jessica. You let her run out of the house and climb into the helicopter, Mom. What were we supposed to do? Was I supposed to telepathically make her behave? Were Bern and Nevada supposed to magically make her stop while they were being shot at?”
Mom opened her mouth.
“No,” Catalina said. “I’m sick and tired of everyone making excuses for her. She’s special. She’s under a lot of pressure. She’s a spoiled brat who’s used to getting her way. She acts like a five-year-old and you want all of us to compensate. Well, she’s too old for us to do that. I’m not going to listen to any more of this. I’m done. Seriously, I’m fucking done.”
She turned and marched away. A door slammed somewhere. The pressure of the upcoming trials was getting to her.
“What is happening to this family . . .” Grandma Frida murmured.
“Arabella did what you taught her to do,” I said to Mom. “She turned, took care of the problem, saved hundreds of people, turned back, and split. She didn’t linger, she didn’t show off, and she didn’t pose for any photos. She did her job and vanished.”
“Once she got into the helicopter, there was no way to stop her,” Bern said.
My mother landed into a chair. She looked defeated and old, older than I’d ever seen her. It was like being stabbed in the heart. I came over and crouched by her. “Mom?”
She looked at me, glassy-eyed.
“It will be okay.”
Mom didn’t answer.
“Mom? You’re scaring me.”
“I just can’t stop it,” she said softly. “I’ve done everything I can and I can’t keep you all safe.”
I took her hands. “It will be okay. I promise.”
“How?”
“The trials are being moved up. She’ll do a sealed trial, where she will be in front of a small group of witnesses. She’ll demonstrate reason during the trial, which we all know won’t be a problem. She’s still herself when she transforms. She just can’t speak. Once we qualify as a House, she will be protected under Emerging House Law.”
Mom stared at me.
“Emerging House Law states that no member of the House can be pressed into military service or be held by federal, state, or local authorities absent of clear evidence of committing a criminal act,” Bern said. “If we make it as a House, they can’t touch her.”
I wasn’t sure she heard us. “Mom?”
“What if they get her before the trials?”
“They won’t,” I told her. “She’s with Rogan’s mother. They’re not going to violate the privacy of House Rogan. They have no cause and no proof. If they try, she will make them regret it.”
“It will be on TV,” Grandma Frida said.
“Let it be on TV. I trust Rogan and his mother to keep her safe. It will be fine.”
My phone chimed. I answered it.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Rivera said. “We’re ready for you.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I hung up. “I have to go now, but I’ll be back. Don’t worry.” I hugged my mother and went outside. Crossing the street to Rogan’s HQ only took a few seconds, but I wasn’t going to his HQ. I was going to the one-story building behind it. Before Rogan bought it, it held a printing shop, and some traces of it still remained, including the granite counter at the front, now manned by one of Rogan’s employees, a tall, golden-haired woman. I nodded to her and went past her, through the heavy door to a large rectangular room. It had been gutted and painted with charcoal-black chalkboard paint. In the center of the room, Vincent sat, handcuffed to a chair. He saw me and sneered. Apparently, he was back to his old self.
