Chapter 5 - An Intimidating Woman

Episode 5

London near the river Thames

The blueish green water of the river Thames was still, almost as quiet as Octavia Kassoff’s heart.
She could hear Big Ben ring out the hour and noted the various cars crossing the bridge each
making their distinctive clunking sounds.
Sometimes she would come here to think, other times she just wanted to be alone and this was
the only place that felt peaceful enough and isolated enough where she could let her guard down.
The entire last year had been one strain after another. She finally completed development on her
pride and joy, the artificial intelligence chip. And this wasn’t any chip. It would help the world. It
would help their military troops, their agents and their spies to set aside their emotional baggage
and do their job properly.
Octavia had done extensive research on the subject and the one thing that made a mission fail
was fear or the need to help. Inserting an operative with an AI chip would make them a better
agent. Officially, she was creating this chip for the famous Scotland Yard but unofficially, she was
planning on testing the chips on various members of the Legacy.
She had no qualms about doing this. When had they ever really cared about her and her
research? All they wanted her for was her expertise and her brain. Sometimes it didn’t pay to
have two doctorates and a paper that said you were a certified genius. To tell the truth, there
were times when she didn’t feel smart at all. Look at her track record with men. Not one of them
had stayed around long enough to get to know her. But they weren’t the only problems in the
relationship. A shrink would say that since she had issues with her father in the past that she was
making the same problems in her current relationships. Even her assistant Dexter Vargas was
more trouble than he was worth.
At that moment the calm was broken by the ringing of her cell phone.
"What?" she said, harshly. She didn’t like being interrupted when she was trying to have quiet
time.
"Inspector Graves, from Scotland Yard called again. He wants to know when he can expect to
see a working prototype of the AI device. He didn’t sound very happy at the new delays."
"Dexter, we are field testing the device as we speak. I’m going over the right now to check on our
subject and make sure the device was implanted correctly." Octavia focused on the water as she
walked down the bank toward her car.
"I know. But... what should I tell him? He’s a rather intimidating man."
"And I’m a rather intimidating woman," she said in clipped tones. "Make up an excuse – a good
one this time – and I’ll see how well our investment is doing."
Octavia KassoffShe snapped the cell phone closed and glanced back toward the Thames River.
"Sorry our visit was so short. Next time it will be longer, promise."
***
Most people didn’t wonder why she hated her father. Many people hated their fathers just
because they were their biological sperm donors. But Octavia Kassoff had a real reason to hate
her father. He was responsible for their mother’s death. Alexi never seemed to think Isidor was
involved but she knew that he was a low down and dirty man. His alliances with the Black Council
only proved her suspicions correct.
But she also hated Ethan Fairchild for an equally heinous reason. He had killed her brother Alexi.
Ethan tried to deny it but in her heart, Octavia knew it to be true. This was the main reason she
was field testing the AI chip on him. He was not only the best but if the chip failed, at least there
would be one less monster on the earth.
Ethan tried to make her believe the rumors of the Russian mob putting a hit out on Alexi but she
could never see how that could be possible. Alexi was a loving brother and citizen. He would
never get involved with the mafia, especially the Russian mafia.
The lab was quiet as she entered through the white double doors. Her office was only a few
blocks from Legacy Headquarters so if the need arose she could make it back to work in record
time. Dexter sat where Dexter always sat, opposite a large computer with one of the new slim
monitors he had insisted on buying himself. His blond hair was not quite the white blond she’d
seen on surfers but also not the dark blond most considered almost light brown. It was the color
of wheat with streaks of white here and there.
He was too young for premature gray but the highlighting effect did make him stand out in a
crowd.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, pushing up a pair of black chunky glasses farther up on his
nose. "I thought you were going to check Ethan.
"I am. I just stopped by to pick up the remote in case anything goes wrong. If he acts up, ‘click’
and I can turn him off even without the code word."
Octavia riffled through a drawer next to Dexter. She could feel his eyes on her.
"What are you staring at?"
Dexter seemed flustered that she had caught him ogling her.
"I’m just nervous about this whole procedure. We’re not ready for field testing yet."
"Excuse me? Since when did I give you the authority to have an opinion?" Octavia located the
remote control device and slipped it into her purse.
"Since never, but..." Dexter took a breath which seemed to give him more confidence. "But.. We
should do more testing."
"Why are you so suspicious about this Vargas? Do you know something I don’t?"
Octavia laughed at her own question. "Of course you don’t know more than me, *I* am the genius
in the group. Or have you forgotten that?"
"No, I didn’t forget that Dr. Kassoff. I just think we should error on the safe side. Remove the chip
from Ethan. Test it some more."
"Sorry, no can do. I have only a little over two weeks before I have to display this at Scotland
Yard. Testing cannot wait."
Octavia slammed the drawer closed and marched out of the office.
The phone next to Dexter rang and he picked it up on the first ring. "If you don’t provide the
information we require, you dear Mr. Vargas will be wallowing in your own self-made misery."
The caller didn’t reveal their name but Dexter knew what they meant by self-made misery. He
couldn’t let anyone know his secret. He had struggled for weeks about transferring the
information to the hollow voice on the phone, but as each day slipped away he found he couldn’t.
But if worse came
to worse, he didn’t know what he would do.
****
Jeffrey Sogard wasn’t used to being suspicious of his friends, but Faith Fairchild was acting
strangely. He watched her from the command station as he lead a team of operatives into the
field.
"Team one approach target," he said, calmly.
Faith walked into the weapons area and was having a casual conversation with Boswell
Chapman. The older Indian man was busy and only had a moment to speak with her. Jeffrey
wondered what they were talking about.
"Pay attention, Sogard," said a disjointed voice from high above him. Jeffrey looked up to see
Philip Lancaster glaring at him.
"Sorry, sir."
He put his concentration back to the mission at hand and tried to put Faith’s presence in Legacy
Headquarters out of his mind. He successfully accomplished this for about an hour.
When he managed to make his way to the weapon’s area both Faith and Boswell were gone. He
couldn’t help but wonder what had transpired. He heard about Faith’s encounter with the thought
to be dead Ian Fairchild. Jeffrey still had a hard time believing that psychopath was on the loose
again. But Chandelor Knight himself had seen the man and that was good enough for Jeffrey.
Being the curious sort and one who couldn’t leave a mystery alone, Jeffrey pulled up the internal
security tapes from the weapons area. Everything was business as usual until Faith appeared.
Boswell chatted with her pleasantly about the weather and how he couldn’t believe she didn’t
have a boyfriend.
Boswell trusted Faith and left her alone in the weapons arsenal. That was a big mistake. As soon
as the Indian left, Faith hacked her way into one of the holding bins and got her hands on a very
big gun.
Jeffrey stopped the tape and stared at the expression on her face. That was a girl on a mission –
a very deadly mission. He wondered what she needed a gun for. Then the answer came flooding
into his consciousness. Ian Fairchild. She was going to kill him.
***
Kevin Fairchild had been in a fowl mood ever since Michela dismissed him in the hospital a few
weeks ago. How could he have been so stupid, he wondered. How could he have possibly
believed that she had suddenly fallen out of love with his brother and into love with him. He must
have truly lost his sanity in the Bulgarian underground.
He stalked through the halls of Legacy Headquarters. His mood was not only apparent in his
expression. It was also clear by what he was wearing. A dirty, white t-shirt that had been through
the ringer and back. Smudges of dirt painted a haphazard pattern across his chest. The jeans
were just as dirty and had gaping holes in the knees.
Boswell passed Kevin in the hallway. He obviously was in a hurry but he threw him a humorous
stare and shouted, "Going to a job interview?"
It was that way with them. Kevin would wear the most unprofessional garb he could find and
Boswell would tease him about looking for another job – like there was another job for a man with
weapons skills, espionage training and an entire closet full of t-shirts.
He didn’t even bother to wave as Boswell disappeared into a secure area beyond a pair of white
doors.
Gia Doyle was the next to cross his path. She was wearing a suit in a bright yellow. The skirt
came to mid-thigh and her matching pumps clicked down the hall in a set pattern. It was the most
vivid outfit he had ever seen her wear. Usually she stayed in the family of dark red, brown, gray
and black. Although most becoming it was an unusual choice for her. He guessed the ice around
the queen’s heart must be melting a bit.
"There is just something wrong with this picture," Kevin said as Gia passed him.
She dramatically turned around, she did everything curtly and dramatically, and gave him a large
unnatural smile. When she smiled she was actually sort of beautiful. In all his years with the
Legacy he’d never seen this side of her before. The smile edged farther across her face.
"Do you have a problem with contentment, Fairchild?" she asked, with a sharp but warm tone to
her voice.
"No, but I figure if you’re smiling – one of us Fairchild’s is soon to be frowning."
Kevin regarded her with a contempt that bordered on maniacal. What right did she have to be
happy when he was wallowing in misery?
"Why don’t you stick to throwing jibes at the real object of your depression. Is it my fault Michela
came to her senses before making the biggest mistake of her life?"
Kevin considered throwing a punch at her but she must have read his mind and stepped closer
and whispered, "Don’t ruin this beautiful day for the rest of us. Go home."
Kevin’s eyes narrowed. He was in no mood to be verbally sparring with a black belt like Gia. He’d
gone down for the count one too many times trying to keep up with her mind games. Today, Gia
found some sick pleasure in torturing him about Michela. One day he vowed to return the favor.
"Revel in it while you can because before you know it, you’ll be the one eating humble pie, mine!"
***
"What was that all about?" Philip Lancaster asked, indicating he had over heard part of her
conversation with Kevin. She stepped into his office and closed the door.
"Ignore him. He’s fallen off the wagon again. I’m surprised he could even find his way to work this
morning." Gia sat in one of the burgundy chairs opposite Philip.
"That bad?"
"Worse. A few operatives saw him thrown out of three different bars last night. He isn’t taking
Michela’s rejection well."
"Maybe we should assign him something out of the country. You know, to take his mind off of it."
"That just might be the only option," she said lighting up a cigarette. She blew out a long stream
of smoke and stared at Philip. "He’s definitely a loose cannon."
Gia left Philip’s office and walked down the long passageway that lead to the surface. Some days
she liked to walk the streets just to connect herself with the human race again. Pulling her collar
up, she melted into the flow of bodies.
All that consumed her mind was what had happened back in the Bulgarian underground lab. She
had made what she thought was a deal with the devil to ensure Faith Fairchild’s safety. She could
have cared less about the other kid, but Faith was Ethan’s sister and saving her meant going up a
few notches in his eyes. She was willing to risk what an act of kindness would do to her
reputation as a cold-blooded ice queen if it meant getting Ethan back into her life.
She was literally blown away when Ian revealed that he had Ethan’s memories. No one knew
about her rendezvous with Ethan except the two of them. Everyone else plied the rumor mill with
"did they" or "didn’t they" questions but no one really new for certain. That’s when the idea came
into her mind that if Ian had Ethan’s memories, he was sort of like Ethan himself. Suddenly her
elicit suggestion to Ian became a desire she had to experience.
The gamble had eventually paid off. Ian took her bait and Faith left with Chandelor Knight and his
pilot, Stone. Julian Black seemed upset at the prospect of leaving his niece, but he had no other
choice. Letting her leave with his father was better than leaving her with a self-confessed serial
rapist. Gia knew that having Faith leave with Mr. Knight held even more advantages because
Ethan would never forgive her if she left Faith with either Ian or Black.
But surprisingly, Gia found the upside to making a deal with the devil. It was virtually impossible
to tell Ian and Ethan apart. So when she agreed to have sex with Ian, she pretended it was Ethan
she was talking to. She pretended it was Ethan she was making love with. A few times during the
heated moments she almost yelled out Ethan’s name but she managed to control herself. She
didn’t want Ian knowing that she was constantly thinking of his brother while making love with
him.
Even though she knew she was beginning a relationship with Ian, in her mind, she believed it to
be truly with Ethan. Ian was an agreeable substitute. She had only made love to Ian one time but
she hoped he was eager for a repeat performance.
The dark murky streets made way to a drab apartment. The decorations were modest at best. Gia
wasn’t one to put her memories out in the open like the rest of the world. The dim lights barely lit
up the room. One bulb was out and she hadn’t had time to replace it. She made a mental note to
get one soon.
As she walked into the next room, a blue cast from the television flickered across Ian Fairchild’s
face. He was staring at the screen but he wasn’t watching. Absently he flipped betwen channels
as if it was a sort of Zen meditation. She guessed he was making himself at home.
"Finding everything okay?" she asked. This was the awkward point in a relationship where one
wrong word could have catastrophic results.
Ian didn’t tear his gaze away from the set.
"You’ve ruined my surprise," he bit out harshly.
Gia balked. "I could come back in again and act surprised. If that’s what you want."
Ian bound out of the chair and grabbed Gia by the throat. His eyes were two dark menacing slits.
She made a gurgling sound as she tried to breathe.
"You knew I had Ethan’s emotions as well as my own. And you used that against me." Ian
squeezed harder.
Gia’s eyes bulged and she tried unsuccessfully to get out a strangled "no".
He read her lips and growled. "Yes! You knew, slut. You’ve always known!"
Ian released her throat and backhanded her to the face. She flew across the room and crashed
into the wall face first. Blood trickled down her lips.
"No," she said, wiping the blood away. "I didn’t know. Franklin tricked me."
"Liar! You will not side track me again. I came back for Faith and I intend to have her!"
Gia reached for her gun which was holstered in the small of her back. Ian noticed the slight
movement and cracked his hand against her nose, breaking it. She gasped at the sudden rush of
pain. Ian grabbed the gun away and leveled it at her.
Neither heard the intruder come in through the open door. Faith Fairchild heard the commotion
and cautiously approached the scene. She raised the large gun she had stolen from the Legacy
arsenal and aimed at Ian. Her hands shook furiously.
Ian continued to scream at Gia. "You are an obstacle I can no longer tolerate. That means,
unfortunately, you have to die." He said the words with an emptiness in his voice. "I hope there
are no hard feelings about this."
A shrill "NO!!" sounded from behind Ian. He turned sideways making himself a smaller target
while still holding his gun on Gia. The gun jerked in Ian’s hand as it discharged. Faith’s gun also
fired.
Gia could only stare at both of them. She saw the guns lurch. She saw Ian grab his waist, but
some how both bullets pummeled into her torso. Her eyes blinked back the pain causing her eyes
to see a flash of random images. The images moved across her field of vision like a strobe light.
She saw Faith drop the gun and heard it hit the floor. Then she screamed and ran from the room.
Ian glanced back at Gia, picked up the gun Faith had dropped and placed Gia’s gun onto a
nearby table. He was very calm in his actions. He didn’t flinch when Gia’s body convulsed and fell
to the floor like a broken rag doll. Her eyes glazed over and blood oozed from her wounds and
seeped into the white carpeting.
With his work done, Ian donned a pair of designer Oakley sunglasses. He had to look perfect
when he caught up to Faith. She had shot his enemy for him.
She wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with her. He had to find her.
Ian turned and looked at the dying woman. "I’d say, ‘see you later,’ but I don’t plan on it."
As he left he closed and locked the door. He didn’t want any would be heros coming to Gia’s
rescue.
He reveled at the prospect of the chase. Faith wanted to play hide and seek. He truly loved that
game and he intended on winning this time. This was going to be even better than his previous
encounter with the young Fairchild.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he called, racing down the hallway.
***
Three hours later Kevin Fairchild was downing his fifth beer in an hour. Usually when he was
drunk he sang folk songs but tonight he couldn’t think of any.
"One more!" he told the barkeep.
The bartender looked to a blonde woman at the end of the bar. She nodded and held up one
finger.
"This is your last one, buddy," the bartender said.
"Aw! Come on. I’m a paying customer."
"Sorry kid. Boss says only one more."
Kevin leaned on the bar and took a huge gulp of the pale liquid. Two threatening looking figures
entered the bar and Kevin regarded them. Definitely two operatives. He could tell that even when
he was drunk. As they drew closer he could see they were Pete and Juan. Two Legacy clean up
men.
"Pete. Juan. Sit down. Have a beer on me."
Juan Martinez was a intimidating Hispanic man. He slapped Kevin’s beer away from him and
grabbed one of his arms. Pete latched onto the other.
"Where are we going?" Kevin said between hiccups."
Pete Bain scowled like he thought Kevin should know what they were there for. "Kevin Fairchild,
you’re being charged with the attempted murder of Gia
*****
Octavia awoke with a strange feeling of exhilaration that morning. Today was the day she would
see the fruits of her labor. First, she had to see how the implant was functioning, then she would
test it. Grabbing the remote control from her purse, she glanced at it cautiously. This was not an
item to take lightly. This was an item that would make or break her career. She had to handle it
carefully. Octavia pulled on her customary black slacks and turtleneck, then wrapped a long
velvet cape around her slim body. It was a dramatic outfit, well fitted for a dramatic day ahead.
It was early as she pushed the accelerator and sped down the deserted London streets. Only the
occasional late-night reveler, stumbling home in a drug-induced haze, was witness to the black
Jaguar with the stunning blonde sitting inside. Octavia fingered the remote with one hand as she
used the other to negotiate a corner. She had been up late programming the remote with Ethan's
first assignment. Soon she would use it, but not until she knew the implant was functioning
correctly.
At least that had been the plan.
She screeched to a halt outside Ethan's flat only to see him, looking grizzled and worn, slipping
into the back of a cab. Strange, Octavia thought. The procedure should have left him unconscious
longer than that. She pulled her seatbelt back over her chest, hearing the snap as it fastened, and
swung her car around to follow the cab.
It had been a merry chase up and down the empty London streets but Octavia was an excellent
driver and knew she could keep him in range without being spotted. Ethan exited the cab looking
even more worn than before. Something was wrong, she sensed. Seriously wrong.
As as she snuck through the Legacy infirmary, she tried not to call too much attention to herself.
Rounding a corner, Octavia saw Ethan just as he turned and ambled down another hallway.
Quickening her pace, she hurried to catch up with him. There was something different about the
way he was moving. Ethan was inherently careful, always watchful for an adversary who might
leap out of a dark corner. He was always on edge. Always ready to strike.
When they had been lovers during his time in Russia, Octavia often watched him as he slept
fitfully and wondered what demons so taunted him in his sleep? What enemy was attacking him
as he recovered from the previous day's mission? She had learned after only a few nights with
him that she had to get out of his way when his dreams woke him in a panicked sweat, and he
reached out to find an imaginary enemy holding a gun that wasn’t there.
The way he was walking now, the determined stride, the total disregard for his surroundings, was
different. It could be the familiarity of the Legacy halls, a place where Ethan had practically grown
up, but Octavia's well-trained senses told her that something was wrong. Something else about
his movements wasn’t kosher. This was the main reason why she hesitated to use the remote.
This was why she followed him, gliding silently behind like the specter of his conscience.
As she rounded another corner she stopped, staring down the long, empty hallway. Her eyes
narrowed, scanning every detail. Every hair on her body rose to attention at the tingling of danger.
The muffled curse wasn’t as noticeable as the sound of the firearm as it engaged an opponent.
She knew
Ethan had such a weapon on his person and in his current state of mind, if she was indeed
correct, he could be capable of anything.
No longer concerned with stealth, she leapt forward, pushing the door open farther.
Oh, my God! Her mind cried. Now she knew there was definitely something wrong. Ethan
Fairchild was holding a gun, steady and straight, to a woman's forehead. His hand over her
mouth like an assassin, ready to attack. But the thing that struck Octavia was the woman’s eyes.
So expressive, so needful so terrified. Octavia knew she would never forget those eyes. They
were the eyes of her best friend and confidant, Michela Forsythe. How had it come to this, she
wondered still standing stoic in the doorway gaping at the sight of them. Michela was scared.
That much she knew for certain. Who wouldn’t be frightened in a situation such as this. Here was
your lover, the man you loved, holding a gun to your head. Octavia couldn’t contemplate how her
friend must have felt. She’d never loved anyone enough to be terrified of them.
Shaking the shock out of her system, Octavia flipped back her cape and felt for the gun she
always wore by her side. Legs planted shoulder length apart, ready for anything, she took a deep
breath. Before she could adequately formulate a plan, Ethan turned towards her, and she felt her
body turn to ice. The look on his face was one she'd seen before, but only on the face of the
monkeys in her lab that had been the unfortunate recipients of the AI implants. It was a cold,
detached stare with no trace of Ethan Fairchild in their dark depths. The coldness in Ethan's
eyes, the lack of humanity, sent a strange wave of exhilaration and dismay through Octavia.
He'd been activated.
The only problem was that Octavia hadn't activated him. Someone else had control over Ethan
Fairchild!

Chapter 4 - Gunpowder and Cologne

 

 Episode 4

The sun crept in the window, falling across Paris' bare back, warming her skin. She closer her

eyes, drinking in this rare moment of relaxation, a brief respite from her job. It wouldn’t' be long

before the nagging thoughts returned: this assignment was going too long, and the voices that
had started to creep into her consciousness lately.

Ethan smelled dark, like gunpowder and cologne, the smell of desire. His body was lean,
sprinkled with hair, a few of them already gray. He had a scar on his shoulder, small and white,
and a long slash across his back. Bullet wound, he said, in the wrong place at the wrong time as
Paris' fingers traced the rough skin, full of questions. They met every day now, in the late
afternoon as the sun prepared to melt into the horizon, searing the city with her heat. No words
would be said as mouths met and their hands groped at each other in an almost animal manner.
He was a fighter. She could sense that in him. It was the way he held himself, waiting for the
attack, the way he slept fitfully after they made love, a symptom of too many nights on the run,
too many dangers he had to face. He was a fighter in bed too, holding her down, pushing into her
as if he could expel some sort of demon. She pushed back, expelling her own, trying to drown out
the voices with moans of desire.
But no matter how loud she moaned, the voices came back. To be exact, one voice. The one who
came before. And with the voice came the visions. It would happen when she least expected it:
walking down the street, the smell of flowers wafting by and all of the sudden she saw him. The
man with dark adoring eyes, smiling at her. Then he faded away and the pain came, searing
through her eye sockets like a white-hot flame and Paris would stop for a moment, confused,
forgetting who she was and what she was doing. The other one was surfacing, pushing at the
walls of the prison that Jacques and his miracle chip had created. Paris hadn't said anything to
them, her mother and father of sorts, because she knew that when they found out she would no
longer be. The anesthetic and scalpel would dig her out and throw her away. The longer she
could keep her secret, the longer she would live.
Ethan rolled over and stared at her, his eyes holding a question she'd seen there at least a
hundred times already. What were they doing? She knew why she was there, but why was he.
She saw it in his eyes sometimes: the other woman that he'd loved and lost, the other woman he
was trying to forget with animal sex and a blonde amazon. He stroked her breast, his touch
unusually tender, then rolled over to kiss the soft skin on her hip, his lips lingering, rough yet
warm. Paris closed her eyes and another vision danced in front of her. Another man, long brown
hair, eyes smoldering with a strange combination of passion, love and something deeper, abiding
that made Paris feel thirsty for something real. It was the man in the bedroom, the one she'd shot.
She hated this one and knew the pain would come soon. Her eyes flew open and she dug her
fingernails into Ethan's back, keeping her moans in tempo as the white heat seared through her
once again.

****
It was like she was trapped under a thick, cold sheet of ice, staring up at a world that she no
longer recognized, a world of shape and color warped by her prison. How long had she been
there, she wondered, trapped in slow motion, not feeling anything? Slowly things were coming
back. First they were from long ago. Her husband, his touch, the way he put his arm protectively
at the small of her back, Amara's tiny body, full of energy, then Declan, full of devotion and love
like she'd never felt before.
At the same time, she lived in the present, knowing that something was in her body, watching her
every move, the way she brought the cigarette to her mouth, exhaling slowly, watched her paint
her mouth red like a slash, and Katrina knew who it was: Paris. This thing that lived in her body,
kept her in prison, had unloaded a gun into her lover, and Katrina hated in a way that was white
and hot and full of pain.
The more she hated, the more she felt. She started to get feeling back, her hands filling in slowly
like an painter was adding them onto her body, and she was starting to be able to pound at the
ice that had trapped her. Her fists became sore and she tried to scream out, to beg for help, but
found she had not regained her voice. So she floated, then attacked the ice again and again.
Soon the smells started, faint but distinct. Smells that reminded her of things: the scent of flowers
that reminded her of her wedding night as Taren had so carefully lay her on the bed. Then the
smell of musk, and that night in Berlin came flooding back as she and Declan tore at each other
in more ways then one. With every memory, she pounded at her prison, demanding to be let out,
and she whispered to Paris, to the thing that had stolen her body, whispered revenge, whispered
death, whispered hate.
Then she saw it. A crack running across the ice, shining silver like a spider web on the deep
green, and Katrina smiled. It would break soon.
****
"Are you sure you want to do that?" Jacques tried to quell the fear he felt creeping into his voice. "
We were going to pull him in, to take out the implant. It could kill him to turn in on."
The voice coming out of the phone was forceful.
This is the only way, DuPre, and if you don't like it, you can get out, although I don't think you'll
get far with my men on your tail.
 Jacques sighed heavily. No one liked life as much as Jacques DuPre and no one knew better
how to read the handwriting on the wall. Self-preservation was the prime directive and Jacques
was good at it.
" I'll start programming the new directive into the software and we'll pull him in for implantation."
The voice chuckled, and Jacques thought how weird it was to chuckle considering what the man
on the other end of the line had just asked him to do.
I knew you'd see it my way, DuPre.
 Jacques smiled as he heard the click of he phone disconnecting. He didn't see it his way, and he
never had. He hadn't seen it his way when he volunteered his son for the AI implementation and
he certainly didn't see the logic in turning his son into the man who would assassinate his own
lover. But Jacques DuPre wasn't Franklin Fairchild, and was glad he would never have to face
that possibility.
None of that mattered. Jacques rarely let feelings get in the way of anything. Franklin had given a
job to do and it was time to get started. More than anything, Jacques was good at what he did. He
pulled out his Palm Pilot and typed in a message to Nightingale. She was probably at some chic
café, sipping coffee and seducing a handsome young man. Sometimes he thought she did it to
drive him crazy, to remind him of what he let slip away. He never let her know how much it
affected him.
Pull in Paris, orders to activate Chameleon.
 Jacques hit send and smiled. He would love to see Nightingale's face when she read his
message.
****
Ethan was tired. He couldn't remember when he'd felt this worn out. After escaping Octavia's
clutches, it had been a mad dash to London, then he met Paris. Paris had awakened a kind of
animal hunger in him and he couldn't get enough of her. Now he lay on the hard mattress of a
cheap hotel, staring at the empty space next to him. Paris had slipped out after he had fallen
asleep, he body sweaty and hot against the tangled sheets.
She was beautiful, there was no doubt, but for some reason no matter how good the sex was,
she just made him miss Mike. Mike, with her dark eyes and huge smile that melted his heart
whenever he saw it. No matter what she'd done, he missed her, and Ethan knew nothing could
take her place, not even all the blondes in the world, and he might be getting close to getting
through that list.
He'd gone to the infirmary a few days ago. Heard she was injured and couldn't control his urge to
see her, but Kevin had been there, so he'd turned around and left. There was no room in Michela
Forsythe's world for him and she seemed determined to tell him that over and over. So he
headed towards the café to meet Paris and they had gone immediately to the hotel, almost
tearing each other's clothes off before they even got in the door.
Ethan turned over and stared out the hotel window. The night sky was velvet, draped in sparkling
stars, with just a tinge of dark blue outlining it's edges. He could smell the sweet smell of flowers
wafting in from a balcony next door and hear the sounds of laughter drifting up from the sidewalk
below. His heart clenched as he imagined the voices were those of a happy couple, heading
home for an evening of reading together, holding each other. No matter how good the sex was, it
wasn't what Ethan Fairchild really wanted. What he wanted was a home, and not even a physical
house, but a person to come home to.
Ethan closed his eyes again, trying to get the images out of his head, when he heard the high
pitched ring of his phone. Grunting, he rolled over and felt around the dresser until her found it.
He stared at the caller ID. Lancaster. Shit.
"Fairchild here." He said gruffly.
"Where the hell have you been?" Philip said, putting aside all pretense of politeness. Ethan could
hear the anger in his voice.
"Tied up." Ethan smiled. It was somewhat close to the truth considering Paris' taste in foreplay.
"I've been calling. I need your bloody report, Fairchild. Get in here right away."
Ethan flipped his phone shut without saying good bye and rolled out of bed. He picked up his
jeans that had been thrown haphazardly on the floor and started to pull them on when he noticed
something out of the corner of his eye in the folds of the sheets. He moved closer and found a
ring, a Claddagh ring to be exact. It was heavy, scratches forming a soft patina on the gold
surface. Ethan fingered it then put it in his pocket. Paris must have left it. He would give it to her
the next time he saw her, which would be sooner than later.
****
Thunder rumbled in the distance bringing with it a cascade of gloom. The sky grew increasingly
darker as the storm clouds rolled in. With the storm came a great evil, an evil that threatened to
consume them all.
Stone Jacobs steadied the Knights One, the personal helicopter to Chandelor Knight. The man
himself sat in the back constantly thwapping his silver tipped cane toward the empty co-pilot seat
ranting in his insidious way. As a pilot, he knew he shouldn't be flying alone, especially since they
were flying straight into a horrific storm, but Chandelor was insistent that they find his grandson.
Co-pilot or no co-pilot. And as it turned out, it was without one. Co-pilots were hard to come by on
short notice.
"Faster. Faster!" Mr. Knight yelled. "My grandson is in trouble. Quite possibly dead. Now put your
pedal to the metal!" The silver tipped cane came down hard, this time precariously close to a
panel of instruments which made flying the metal bird a whole lot easier. He only hoped Mr.
Knight watched where he rapped that thing. One wrong move could send them both plummeting
hundreds of feet straight down.
****
As the night descended and the storm clouds rolled, lightening colored with an uneasiness,
streaked across the slate gray skies. Stone landed the craft just as Chandelor spied Julian Black
slipping into an entranceway near the rear of the ruins. The giant rock formations enveloped his
form like a vacuum.
"Oh, my God," Stone whispered, gazing at the ruins that had once been a monastery. "What
happened here?"
"Trust me. You don't want to know," the elder Knight said, with a sigh.
They followed Julian down into the bowels of what turned out to be an underground lab. The
silver metal walls shined like a million mini suns as they reflected the bare bulbs lining the
hallway. It was obvious to both men that Julian was looking for something.
"What are you doing down here?" Chandelor asked his bastard son. He leaned on the silver
tipped cane with a heavy hand.
"I'm here to find my niece, Faith. What in the hell are YOU doing here?"
An unnamed expression crossed Knights features before he simply answered,
"Finding my grandson."
"Grandson?" Julian said, with surprise. "Having a grandson would imply having a son. Since
when do you have one of those much less acknowledge them?"
Knight remained silent. He knew that divulging too much information to Julian Black could prove
to be a deadly mistake.
Stone stood between the two men knowing that this confrontation could possibly get out of
control. He knew the history between the two men and he wasn't interested in seeing a repeat
performance of the last time they had shared a room together. Stone distinctly remembered
driving home that night with a bloodied and broken nose. It wasn't a night he could easily forget.
This was why he made himself a barrier between them. Knight and Black when mixed together
formed a very volatile concentrate that could blow at any minute.
"Leave the man alone," Stone said. "You're both down here on a mission of
Mercy. Why don't you both just work together for once in your hot headed lives?"
The men nodded. They knew that now was no time to fall into their usual banter. Lives were at
stake. As they resolved to start the search, a high pitched scream penetrated the long hallway.
The noise echoed, bounced off the metal walls making the scream even louder. It took a few
seconds to ascertain that the sound was coming from a room to Julian's left. Stone and
Julian rushed to the door. They clawed at the surface searching for a way inside.
"That sounds like Faith. FAITH!" Julian grunted, knowing that opening this door could mean the
difference between saving her life or losing it.
"Uncle Julie!" Faith screamed from her imprisonment. She pounded on the door in a frantic plea
for assistance. "Help us!"
****
Faith's voice was hoarse, her throat felt dry and scratchy, but she took a deep breath and
screamed again, pounding her bruised fist against the cold silver door. On the other side was
safety in the form of her uncle, Julian Black.
Julian Black was her little, dirty secret. The one Franklin had tried to keep from her, the one Kevin
had warned her against time and time again, and Faith had believed them. Believed them as if
their words were goodness and truth, as if they would never lie. But now, with that monster
holding a gun to her head and the fear creeping back like a disease that threatened to engulf her
and tear her apart, all trust she'd had in her family melted away.
"He can't get to you."
Ian's voice whispered in her ear, smooth as silk and seductive, and his breath was hot against
her skin. Faith's body trembled as she fought to control her fear and a tear leaked out the side of
her eye.
"No one can, Faith. You're all mine now."
Faith took a deep breath and turned to run. It didn't matter that he had a gun. Maybe getting killed
would be the only way she could escape. Moving quickly, Ian pinned her against the door with the
weight of his body, his eyes staring down into hers. She was paralyzed by his gaze, frozen in
place, not even able to scream. He stayed there for what felt like an eternity, then backed away
from Faith and she crumpled to the ground, sobbing. Ian had won.
"You." He said, gesturing at Gia who was staring in amazement at the man who looked so much
like Ethan yet was so different. "Open the door."
Gia walked towards the door, stepping over Faith and slowly opened it. The heavy door swung
open silently, revealing the shocked faces of the two men standing outside of it. Faith lifted her
head and stared up at Julian Black. It would all be over soon.
"Chandelor." Ian said, pointing the gun steadily at the three men on the other side. "Long time, no
see."
****
Julian surveyed the situation with one quick glance. A boy huddled in the corner, his face terrified.
Gia Doyle stood in the middle of the room, staring at a man who looked suspiciously like Ethan
Fairchild. Faith was collapsed on the floor, shaking.
"Fairchild, you bastard." Julian snarled as he pulled out his gun. He didn't stop to think, but aimed
to kill. He almost pulled the trigger when Chandelor Knight's cane came up and knocked the gun
out of his hand. It fell with a metallic clang and skittered across the floor.
"You don't understand what's going on here." Chandelor said quietly, "and the bullet would
ricochet. We don't need more damage."
Turning toward the man with the gun, Chandelor Knight smiled. The air was thick with tension as
the two men faced each other.
"Ian Fairchild." Chandelor intoned smoothly. "I never thought I'd see you alive again. I guess I
should have kept closer tabs on your father."
Julian glanced between the two men who were circling each other like two animals ready to
spring at any moment. He took a small step towards Faith, then another as the two men bantered
between them. Then, in one quick motion, he pulled Faith's trembling body into his arms and
cradled her gently. Supporting her, he started to move towards the door when he heard Ian's
voice.
"Don't take her anywhere, Black."
Julian turned to see Ian pointing the gun at him.
"Faith is mine. She's always been mine, and I intend to keep her this time."
"No one belongs to you."
Julian and Chandelor turned at the sound of Gia Doyle's voice. She was standing the middle of
the room, legs planted shoulder width apart and Julian's gun in her hand. It was pointed squarely
at Ian.
"Let us go, asshole."
"Gia." Ian said smoothly, not missing a beat. "You are pointing that gun at the wrong person. I
have something that might help you change your mind."
"Not a chance, Ian." Gia pulled back the trigger and the click echoed in the room. "I'm guessing I
can hit on the first shot, which means less ricocheting."
"I think you'll be interested in what I have to offer you, Gia. After all, it's what you've wanted for a
long time. You are in love with my brother, am I correct."
Gia didn't answer, but stared at Ian.
"My father was smart when he saved me. He gave me a gift that I can give to you: my brother's
memories, and his secrets. The secrets that will destroy the one person who keeps you from
Ethan: Michela Fairchild. Give me Faith and I will give you what you need to have Ethan forever."
****
It was an eerie experience to look into the eyes of a man you loved and see a whole different side
of him. She was viewing Ethan's twin. As she gazed into Ian Fairchild’s eyes, she knew she was
looking at pure evil incarnate. On one hand it disgusted her. On another, it was adrenaline rush.
He was Ethan, only Ethan with an edge - an evil edge. Why did the thought bring her only more
questions and desires?
As if Ian could read her mind, he came back with a retort that both surprised and annoyed her.
"You think you’ve locked your secret away so no one can touch it? I know your secrets Gia
Doyle."
Gia kept an even eye on the delusional man. Never let the enemy see fear, she remembered.
Fear was a quality that could only get you killed. Or worse.
"You don’t know me," Gia bit out.
"Oh, but I do," Ian said, with a smile. "I know more about you than you know. I even know about
the rose tattoo."
Gia could control her anger no longer. She rushed at the man flattening him against the wall.
"If you wanna play mind games with me, you’re gonna have to do better than that!" Her voice held
a gravel quality.
Ian laughed, and it sounded like Ethan. For a moment it took her aback. Then quickly she
regained her composure.
I don’t want to play mind games with you, Gia. I want to play with you like Ethan played with you
in Amsterdam." Ian smirked as Gia turned sharply to meet his gaze. "Don’t look so surprised. You
created me. You’re the reason I’m alive and have my brother’s memories."
"You may have his memories, but you will never *be* him," she hissed.
"Maybe not, but in my mind is locked a secret you so desperately want to know. I know how the
prodigal brother feels about you. We can make it a trade. You give me Faith and I’ll tell you the
secret Ethan has kept so close to his heart."
****
Julian Black left Faith’s side and spun Gia around on her heel.
"That man is playing you."
"Why the hell do you care?" She wrenched her arm free from his grasp and stalked across the
room
"Why do I care?" Julian pointed at Faith. "That is my niece over there, and I’ll be damned if I’m
going to let you turn her over to a psychopath like Ian Fairchild in trade for a memory he *might*
have!" His eyes were as cold and ruthless as coal.
"He’s not the only one who’s psycho," she said, obviously slamming him. "Like I would turn her
over to either of you." Gia began to walk away when Julian’s words stopped her.
"Take some free advice. Ethan’s not worth the sacrifice."
Gia spun around and pushed herself well into the head of the Black Council’s comfort zone.
"Listen Dr. Drew. If I wanted your advice, I’d call up your 900 number."
Julian contemplated a moment before throwing a new taunt back at the leggy woman. "You don’t
like playing with the other children, do you?"
"Not if the only other kid in the sandbox is you!"
"What’s your decision," Ian asked, calmly. "Time is running out on this offer. He may have acted
placidly but he was obviously tired of waiting.
"You tell me what I want to know, and I’ll promise you one night you will never forget."
"Gia, NO!" Faith screamed. "You can’t do this to me!"
"Sorry, kid, but I have my priorities."
****
"So nice of you to join us again, Mr. Fairchild."
Ethan smiled at Philip Lancaster, who sat self-righteously behind his big, black desk barking out
commands like he thought he was God himself. Of course, he wasn't. That was Ethan's father's
job, but Philip liked to play God. He made no bones about it. Ethan would never accept Philip as
his father's predecessor. It was like putting an ape in charge of running the country. Ethan
snickered to himself. Maybe that wasn't such a good example.
"My pleasure, Phil, old boy." Ethan plopped down onto one of the less comfortable chairs beyond
Philip's souped up desk and offered him another lazy smile, just to piss him off.
"Since you've wasted so much time trying to find the office again. I think you should get to your
debriefing. You'll be assigned to another case this afternoon."
Philip was such an asshole. He knew this was supposed to be Ethan's vacation.
"And don't bother trying to get that vacation," he said, as if reading his mind. "It's been rescinded
as of three minutes ago."
Philip was definitely a first class asshole.
That was a week ago and Ethan was still contemplating on writing his debriefing statement. He
didn't quite know where to begin. So many things happened in the days since the wrap of the
Bulgarian mission. The screen of his computer emitted a pale white sea of emptiness egging him
to get the report over with so he could get on with his life and get out of the office. Paperwork was
not the best part of this job.
His office at Legacy headquarters was much like he remembered it, only cleaner. The olive walls
cast a dim, green reflection on his terminal as he typed the minutes of the mission -- what there
was of it. Half of what had transpired wouldn't see the inside of a computer data bank, much less
hit the highest points on the Legacy grapevine.
But unlike himself the rumor mill seemed to thrive on situations exactly like this. And because of
that fact, the grapevine had taken on a life of its own. The fish stories kept getting bigger and
bigger until even he couldn't believe what he'd done this time.
They might not have had details of the mission correct, but they did seem to know about Kevin
and the child-like crush he had on Michela Forsythe. It was truly shocking how many other people
cared about his life and the lives of his family members. What little time Ethan did have to himself,
he preferred it strictly off the record.
He had, of course, heard about Michela's gunshot wound and being the honorable man that he
was, he paid her a second unannounced visit at the infirmary. Anything to get out of Philip's site
for more than five minutes. He didn't like when people kept tabs on him. If he didn't know better,
he was starting to think they were up to something.
His brother, Kevin, once again beat him to the punch. He was already at the infirmary plastered to
Michela's side like a Saturday night Special when Ethan arrived sometime near the end of visiting
hours. It was in that moment Ethan realized how deeply his brother felt for the woman. And
actually, to tell you the truth, he was happy for him.
He'd heard Kevin had confessed his love and devotion to Michela and she treated his gift of the
heart like she did everything of value. She pitched it back in his face like a cheap suit.
Eden Fairchild was the one who told him this with a greedy glint in her eye as she stood in the
hall outside Michela's room. She was overjoyed at Michela's dismissal of Kevin. Ethan slunk into
the shadows as Kevin beat a path out of the hospital room. Ethan knew his presence would only
make things worse, and Kevin didn't need him beating a dead horse.
Ethan was still sketchy about what happened in the laboratory under the Bulgarian monastery. All
he knew for sure was that Faith wasn't talking, and she had once again drawn herself close to her
"Uncle Julie." The thought made him shudder.
Gia Doyle was another story. She was happier than he'd ever seen her. A smile lit up her usual
sour face giving her an almost glow. He wished he had time to delve into what was up with her.
Here was a woman who had been in a perpetually bad mood since birth and now she was
walking around like Monica on "Touched By An Angel" granting wishes wherever she went. He
could almost imagine the ethereal light shining on her head. Yes, something was definitely not
right in River City. It made him nervous, but he didn't have time to look into it further.
But the biggest problem he had was Philip Lancaster's sudden inspiring idea to pair him with
Octavia Kassoff. She was Russian, she was intelligent and she was suddenly overzealously civil
to him. Which on one hand was nice but at the same time made him suspicious. Having her
around was not going to be a good thing. He could see therapy in his future if Philip pushed this
issue. Philip was definitely on his shit list for this one. Way at the top of it. A place reserved for
only the truly awful. He was number two to
Michela's number one.
Weeks had passed since Michela rebuffed Kevin. She was now out of the infirmary, as was his
cousin, Declan O'Connor. But the worse news was yet to come. Philip decided to pair him with
not only Michela Forsythe but Octavia Kassoff as well. God grant him the strength not to kill them
both.
The traffic on South Audley Street hummed along like blood pumping through the veins of
London. The apartment looked remarkably well. Maybe that had something to do with Emma, his
housekeeper, visiting once in a blue moon, which to him meant once a week, or maybe it was
because he hadn't seen the inside of his apartment in weeks. Everything was exactly as he left it,
except the trash, which was gone. How Emma knew what was trash and what wasn't baffled him.
Ethan shrugged off his jacket, holster and shirt and folded himself into the leather couch. It was
black and shiny, more a piece of art than a couch, really. Why he'd let Michela talk him into it was
beyond him. But the piece did, he had to admit, look good in the room in which it sat.
It was definitely good to be home.
With one hand he zapped through the channels on the telly while expertly opening a bottle of ale
with the other. Usually, he wasn't one to drink, but today he was making an exception. Michela
and Octavia. God! What had he ever done to deserve that?
He took a long drawl on the bottle then let out a sigh. His body felt like a heavy weight on the
black leather. He seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper into the comfort of the couch. It wasn't
long before his eyes began to droop. Time for some serious shuteye. He rose and stumbled up
the stairs to his loft room. Before he could make his way up the spiral staircase, he collapsed on
the metal steps halfway up.
While he was out, he dreamed of things that he thought he had forgotten and things he didn't
know he knew. People were surrounding him. Their faces blurs of fog and color. Their raised
voices held his attention. He tried to get up but found himself restricted, confined. It was almost
as if someone had secured him to a bed for a very long and very painful operation.
"What's going on?" he tried to whisper, but his voice wouldn't cooperate with him.
"If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right," one woman said in that dreamy whispery way
people spoke in dreams.
"Octavia? Is that you?" He tried to speak again but the words wouldn't come.
What was happening to him? His arm slipped free from its confines and he waved it to get
someone's attention.
"Vargas!" she yelled. "I told you to secure the patient!"
"They may think they have perfected this technology but it is MINE, dammit!
Mine! And I'm going to show them how to really control an AI patient."
"But why him?" a younger male voice asked.
"Because even with his super ego, he's still the best. With my technology inside him, he'll be even
better." Octavia's form slipped by him in a blur of white and yellow.
"But there are other reasons, right?"
"Maybe," she said. "Maybe I want to prove something to my father. Or maybe I just want to
control the bastard and avenge my brother's untimely death."
"Or maybe both?"
"Or maybe both. Now shut up and focus. This is a delicate operation."
Ethan didn't remember much after that. But it was a dream, after all, and dreams in the scheme of
things really didn't matter much. It wouldn't be until weeks later that he learned exactly how much
of a dream it hadn't been.
The next day he awoke in the balcony-like room looking over his living area.
The discarded ale bottle was still lying sideways on the end table and his gun, holster and shirt
was lying in a pile next to the door. He felt better today but still a little woozy from the previous
night. He must have been more tired than he thought.
The phone rang and it sounded like he was standing inside a bell tower at noon. Pain exploded
inside his head. "God!" He held his hands to his ears and ran to pick up the extension quieting the
noise. One beer can not give me a hangover like this, he thought.
"Yeah, what do you want?" His head pounded as he waited for the caller to speak.
"Good morning Chameleon."
"Chameleon?" Something about the word triggered his subconscious.
"Are you with us, Chameleon?" The woman's voice was stern.
"Yes," he said. "I am with you. Awaiting instructions."

Chapter 3: Gray Area

 
 Episode 03-03: Gray Area

The Legacy Infirmary wasn’t exactly his favorite place to be, but he had promised himself that
he’d visit both Scarlett and Michela. He barely made it up the outer stairwell before he heard a car
door slam and Eden Fairchild saunter up the steps after him.
“Why are you following me?” Kevin Fairchild said as he entered the backdoor of the
establishment. Three steps inside he dodged a pair of orderlies as they rounded the corner. He
eyed the retreating men, cautiously. Those men must really be into their jobs, he determined.
Eden evaded his question until they arrived at the nurses’ station where an elderly lady in her
early sixties was answering phones.
“I’m following you because I have to talk to you,” Eden’s chin length red hair shined making her
seem all the more crafty.
Kevin remembered his last encounter with her well.
“Oh, really? Since when do you talk? I thought maybe you showed up to do a quickie in the car.”
The nurse tending to the station gasped at Kevin’s crass remark. Her eyes grew wide.
“Sorry,” Kevin apologized. “She brings out the worst in me. I didn’t mean it to come out like that.
But some people’s motivations never change.”
It was Eden’s turn to act all aghast.
“I’ll have you know I have changed a lot in three years.”
“Ever get yourself that apartment you keep talking about? The one where you actually own
furniture?”
She rolled her eyes and he had his answer.
“Like I said. Some people never change.”
“I have changed!”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Kevin turned to the nurse. “I’m here to see Scarlett Gray.”
The nurse contemplated a moment then her face brightened.
“Yes, I remember that one. Sweet girl. And that hair. So red! You never forget a patient like that.”
The nurse eyed Eden. “You two look quite a lot alike. Are you related?”
Kevin nudged Eden who had been staring off into space waiting for Kevin to finish his business.
She painted an interested smile on her lips.
“Who? Me?”
The nurse nodded.
“I seriously doubt it. I know  who my parents are, and their last name isn’t Gray.
The elderly nurse smiled in apology. “My mistake.” She ran her finger over the clipboard where
they kept the patients’ names listed. “Shoot. I forgot. Looks like you just missed her. Her
grandfather checked her out early this morning. Oh, yes,” she said after a short pause. “I
remember. Darleen, the morning nurse, she told me what a distinguished gentleman he was.
Really fancy looking silver cane. Just between us. I think Darleen was trying to play matchmaker
again.”
“You have that problem too?” Kevin smiled at the older woman, who had hardly a sprinkle of gray
in her hair. Suddenly the importance of her words hit him. “Did you say, grandfather? ”
Kevin turned toward Eden.
“According to the intel from Jeffrey, Scarlett Gray doesn’t have any living grandparents.”
“Don’t you just hate it when they come back from the grave like that?” Eden deadpanned.
“Cut the crap, Eden. I’m being serious here. Scarlett has been kidnapped by someone claiming to
be her grandfather.”
“OH, RIGHT!” Eden yelled. “Like some old geezer is going to come waltzing into a secure Legacy
operation and cart out a patient? When has that ever happened?”
“Actually, at this facility, never,” the nurse informed them.
“Let me see the name on her release papers.” Kevin grabbed for the clipboard but the nurse was
faster.
“Oh, my,” the nurse lamented. “I have it all up here in my little ole brain. No need to go looking for
that hard to decipher document. Darleen told me, you remember me telling you about Darleen?
Sweet girl. Anyway, his name was Chandelor Knight. Doesn’t that sound so rich and fancy? Rich
and fancy to match that silver cane of his. I wonder if he’s single?”
“Rich and fancy? Well, that’s one way of looking at him.”
“Who is Chandelor Knight?” Eden’s tone was fraught with more than a casual interest.
“He’s about as high up in the ivory tower as you can get and still breath the air. You’ve heard of
the Knights Foundation? Well, Chandelor Knight IS the Knights Foundation. Corruption, money,
power... you name it, I’ve heard it about him. The Legacy grapevine is filled with rumors about the
elusive powerhouse.”
“Does this mean you’re little redheaded friend is in danger? I’d really hate to think she’s in
danger.”
“I don’t know,” Kevin said. “But I’m sure the hell going to find out.”
He ran off down the hall with Eden trailing after him. The nurse watched them leave then picked
up the extension and dialed.
“Chandelor Knight, please. It’s Vivian at the Infirmary.”
“Is my granddaughter comfortable, Fergus?” Chandelor Knight limped toward the doorway using
his cane for support. It was a decorative piece. Not one he used regularly, but one he reserved
for special occasions -- Formal get togethers, black tie affairs. But today of all days he had to
bring it out and dust it off.
Today Chandelor Knight was going to meet his grandchildren for the first time. It was a
monumental moment in his life.
“Your granddaughter is resting comfortably, sir. Will you be needing anything on your jaunt out
and about?”
“No, just tell the pilot to bring the helicopter around.” He smiled, then slapped his butler, Charles
Ferguson on the back. “My boy, my grandchildren come as a set. I can’t have one without the
other. I’m going out there and I won’t come back without my grandson in tow. That, dear friend, is
a promise.”
Gia Doyle ran through the secret entrance and down to the sub levels faster than anyone on
record. She had to get Ethan out of there before the entire mountain collapsed around them.
“Please be alive,” she whispered in a voice that was full of unfamiliar emotion. Her words were
more than a whisper, they were a prayer.
Faith Fairchild eyed Phoenix Gray with dazed confusion. Phoenix figured she was in shock., and
who wouldn’t be? It wasn’t everyday you survived an explosion, fell to your death, lived and then
found your brother attached to a computer console like an absurd version of Light Bright.
“You’re going to be all right.”
Phoenix tried to make the words sound as level as possible, but a truck load of pain seared
through his body. He tried to subside it by clinching his teeth. That helped a bit, but not nearly
enough. He watched a tear slide down Faith’s dirt-stained face. Her tough exterior was melting
fast.
Her hand shook as she ran it down her brother’s face. It was a face that brought both joy and
fear. Faith tried to block out what Ian, Ethan’s twin, had done to her. But she found that even after
all these years he still taunted her from the grave. Now she felt it stronger than she had since the
day it happened. The pain was not gone but lingering in the back of her mind waiting for the
perfect moment to break her will. She vowed to never let that happen. She wouldn’t be a victim
again.
“Ethan?” she called. “Can you hear me?”
The man strapped to the table groaned. His eyes fluttered, but they didn’t open.
She turned to Phoenix who was holding his stomach like he was in his own sort of pain.
“What have they done to him?” Her voice was nearly hoarse, and tears stained Faith’s face in
blotchy streaks. Her throat felt like someone had clamped it shut shoving all her emotions into
that one tiny spot.
“Help me,” she cried, reaching for the first wire. “Help me get him out of this contraption.”
Gia’s stomach fell leaving her with a bottomless feeling of pure dread. Faith’s hand was extended
toward the wires surrounding Ethan’s head. Was she too late?
“NO! STOP!” Gia ran at Faith like a raging bull. “Remove those wires and you’ll kill him!”
Faith’s hand jerked back instinctively. “Oh, God,” she cried, as her body slumped to the floor. Her
entire being was a spasm of sobs. Her voice quivered and caught as she tried to speak. “Why is it
everything I do is wrong? I pushed him away. I was a bad sister. I nearly killed him!”
As the wails continued, Gia attempted to get her own breathing under control. She closed her
eyes and commanded her heart to slow down. It was beating a mile a minute. Right now she
couldn’t lose her head, she had to remain focused.
“You,” she pointed, at Phoenix. “When I pull a cord, you do the same on the opposite side.
Understand? Stand over there.” She indicated the other side of the bed.
Phoenix nodded since he couldn’t speak. His own pain was becoming unbearable.
“Good. I pull this one, you pull that one. On the count of three, we’ll remove them both at the
exact same time.”
“Okay,” he grunted through clenched teeth. “No pressure for perfection or anything.”
“Listen to me, kid. Slip up and he dies. If that happens, you’re next.” Gia was not going to
entertain the possibility of failure.
As they worked, Faith couldn’t tear her eyes from Ethan’s face. It was so expressionless, so
unlike him. No quick smile. No funny retort.
“I’m so sorry, Ethan,” she said softly. “I’ll be better. It will be good again between us. All I wanted
was for you to love me, care about me, but I didn’t give you a chance.” A sob escaped as she
sighed. “I didn’t want this to happen.”
Suddenly, one of Ethan’s arms slipped from the table and dangled in mid air between Faith and
Gia. Gia froze until the movement of the arm ceased, then they continued with their delicate
operation of removing the wires. Gia and Phoenix completed the procedure and breathed a
collective sigh of relief. Success.
Faith started to move the arm back into place when she saw the mark. A small strawberry
birthmark on his wrist. It was the only exterior thing to distinguish Ethan from his twin, Ian. As far
as twins went, they were exact duplicates of each other.
“No, NO!” Faith scrambled backward as fast as she could, putting distance between her and the
man on the table.
"Him!” She pointed at the man. “Him! It’s not him.” A spasm shook her body. “NO,” she
whispered. “You’re dead. DEAD, damn you!” Her cries penetrated her words breaking up the
sentences in a choppy rhythm. “You’re suppose to be dead!”
Ethan’s twin opened his eyes and the dull blackness of his stare burned a hole through her. She
physically flinched as his eyes made contact.
Gia ran to her side and attempted to comfort her, but she wasn’t used to situations like this.
“What are you talking about. This is Ethan, your brother. It’s okay.”
“No,” she said in a barely audible whimper. “It will never be okay again.”
Gia turned from her crouched position and took in the features of the man lying on the table. The
eyes were cold, almost ruthless. Nothing like Ethan’s. “Oh, God, Franklin, what have we done?”
As Phoenix crossed to be at Faith’s side, the man on the table bolted upward.
An evil grin spread across his face that chilled them to the bone.
“Faith,” he said. “My lovely, Faith. I’ve come back for you.
Faith’s scream echoed through the tunnels of the monastery. Nothing would ever be the same
again.
She had hoped he would die, even prayed for God to deliver her from the specter of evil that
haunted her nights, her dreams and her life. Yet God wasn’t proving to be so faithful. She had
kept his covenants, followed the Golden Rule and still the pain inside grew. Her aunt Sister Mary
Rosa, told her to give her problems up to God. That He would take care of it. He would take care
of his children.
How could God take care of something like this? He couldn’t make her memory go away. He
couldn’t make the images of Ian raping her stop flashing through her mind.
Faith had gotten good at covering up. She painted on a smile and a cheery disposition and let the
world think she was okay.
But inside – inside Faith Fairchild was far from okay.
She stared at the man she thought was dead and tried not to scream a second time. Her body
involuntarily shuddered, but she didn’t scream. She wasn’t going to give the bastard the
satisfaction.
“You did this to me,” she said in a low, hoarse voice. Tears dripped from her face like broken
promises.
“I loved you. Just loved you.” Ian’s smile spread across his face like a plague. It was more than
wicked, it was evil.
His eyes crinkled up in that electric way Ethan’s did, but he wasn’t Ethan.
“I will always love you, Faith.”
Faith resisted the urge to throw up by glancing away. Her heart was thumping so hard and fast
she was afraid everyone could see it. Hear it.
Looking up, her eyes met Phoenix’s startled orbs. He didn’t say a word, merely placed a hand on
her shoulder giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Ian’s own eyes narrowed at the friendly, supportive gesture. He bound off the table and closed
the distance between them. His glare was filled with a sudden disgust for Phoenix Gray.
Faith could sense Ian’s quickening breath and raging emotions. She remembered it all too well.
“This is who you replace me with?” Ian gestured toward Phoenix dramatically. “This child? This
little boy?”
The inflection in Ian’s tone grew in pitch until at the height of his rant he grabbed Faith’s
shoulders.
“Let me show you what a mistake that would be.”
Ian’s head descended toward Faith’s. She squirmed and tried to break free but his grip was too
strong. How could he possibly be stronger than before? This wasn’t happening again.
Gia was stunned into silence. What in the hell had she unleashed into the world? This was
supposed to be a good deed. One that would put her back in Ethan’s good graces not push them
farther away from each other.
Who was Ian Fairchild really, and what had he done to Faith? Franklin had never mentioned Ian
was unbalanced or psychotic. But then again, what father would see his child in that way?
Maybe the drugs they’d injected into his body to stimulate the cerebral cortex were affecting him
in unforeseen ways? The behavior he was displaying could be a side effect of the procedure.
But what if it wasn’t? What if she and Franklin had unleashed a threat to the world? A threat that
had touched Faith and wounded her deeply. The idea was too horrifying to contemplate.
Suddenly, she became aware of Ian’s hands on Faith, and a protective instinct in her kicked into
high gear. Ian’s face was hovering over hers like he wanted to kiss her.
“What are you doing?” Gia shouted “Let go of her!” The tall, lanky woman placed herself between
Faith and Ian.
Ian’s jaw set in a hard line as he took in every aspect of Gia Doyle.
“You must not know me, because nothing stands in the way of what I want,” he bit out. “Nothing.”
“Well, then,” she said just as coldly, mirroring his demeanor. “Consider me a road block, because
you will never lay another hand on her!”
Ian took one step backward in appreciation of her courage and conviction, then crossed both
arms over his chest.
“Never say never.”
“Dammit, Kevin! Where are you going? I said I needed to talk to you.”
Eden Fairchild followed after Kevin as he stalked down the infirmary hallway.
“I never said I’d wait around to listen.” He turned the corner and marched down the corridor trying
to ignore the redhead.
In front of a patient’s open door, Eden stopped him. She grabbed him by the shoulder forcing
Kevin to face her.
“You’re going to listen to what I have to say whether you like it or not.”
"She's a vegetable. I don't know why we have to take good care of her."
"At least she's a good looking one."
Michela felt the tiniest smile playing around the edges of her mouth. It was amazing what people
would say when they thought you weren't listening. She cracked the lid of her eyes only to see
white walls and tiles as she was wheeled down a long hallway...The Legacy infirmary...how
thoughtful of Kevin. Michela took her mind back to that moment when she touched her lips to his.
She knew it would cause trouble, but she still did it, feeling his hard lips push back at her, parting
slightly. She'd seen it before, that look of carefully controlled desire on his face, decidedly blank
except for his eyes that burned. He knew that Michela Forsythe was a one-man woman and he
had no chance with her. That was why she kissed him, and kissed him well. The only way
Michela would ever betray Ethan was if she was out of her mind, and Kevin had to believe that.
The kiss was the only way.
The two junior agents who had been assigned the unfortunate duty of wheeling her around the
infirmary turned the corner in a not-so-gentle manner. Michela worked hard not to let her body
tense up, letting it's full weight fall against the straps that were holding her supposedly comatose
body in the wheelchair. Not much further and she could relax. She flicked her eyes open for just a
moment, just enough to take in more of her surroundings. That was when she saw it.
It was just a glimpse, only enough to make her think maybe she hadn't seen anything at all.
Hazily, through blinds, it looked like a man sitting on a hospital bed, a gun in his mouth.
"Damn." Mike muttered. She didn't think, but reacted, pulling off the straps and pushing herself
out of the chair, leaving two bewildered agents staring after the backside as she ran towards the
room. With all her strength she ran towards the door as if her life depended on it.
Click.
The sound of the empty gun echoed in the room and Declan opened his eyes. The chamber was
empty.
Damn.
Slowly he let the gun fall into his lap as a sob wracked his body and he felt a tear slip down his
cheek. The room was quiet...so quiet...like death, he imagined. Like Kat.
All of the sudden the door to his room flew open and a woman burst in, wild eyed and breathing
fast. She stared at him, her mouth opening to form words that wouldn't come out.
She was beautiful, dusky hair and skin culminating in eyes like dark pools that could suck you
dry. Her hair was pulled back against her head with a few strands escaping onto her forehead
and she wore only a hospital gown that revealed long, sinewy legs. Declan's eyes traveled to her
arms which were strong and muscular. The detached feeling of danger floated through Declan's
head and he instinctively reached for his gun, his fingers feeling the smooth metal. The woman's
pupil's contracted as she watched his hand move over the gun and her body tensed up.
"No!"
Her voice cut through the quiet as she lunged across the room, knocking Declan back on the bed
and sending his gun skidding across the tile floor. They were lying on the bed, the woman on top
of him, pinning him with her knees, her hands on either side of his head and her face staring
down into his.
"Please." Declan begged. " Just let me die."
Kevin Fairchild couldn’t help but try and occupy his worried mind. Scarlett had been kidnapped.
Then to top off his already bad day, Eden Fairchild had decided to unexpectedly drop back into
his life. Was he on God’s hit list, or what?
Three years ago he thought he and Eden might have a future together. Neither of them were truly
of Fairchild blood, but animosity from his father and hers started a sequence of events that
eventually tore the two of them apart. Ultimately, it had been Eden herself, who had ended the
affair, claiming she just wasn’t ready for such a commitment. Neither was he, but he had been
willing to give up anything for her. Apparently, she didn’t feel the same way about him. That was
then, this was now and both their lives had veered off in opposite directions – until this afternoon.
A noise emanating from the patient’s room drew his and Eden’s attention. They gazed into the
small space only to see a woman with straight brunette hair straddling a man lying on the bed.
The two looked intimate and spoke in hushed whispers only they could hear and understand.
Kevin began to close the door when something familiar about the woman struck him. Maybe it
was the way she tucked a mass of brown hair behind her ear. He didn’t know. But suddenly, he
knew without a shadow of a doubt who this woman was.
“Michela?” Kevin’s teeth automatically clinched and a vein in his jaw throbbed.
Eden noticed his sudden one-eighty in behavior.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, peering into the room.
“Nothing.” The word was said with such venom that it was clear it was not a nothing situation. It
was something.
“Do you know that woman?”
Eden seemed too concerned about his emotional state and it was beginning to annoy him.
“Apparently, not as well as I thought I did.” He sidestepped the redhead and stalked out to his car.
Eden trailed not far behind.
“Kevin, wait!” she screamed, as his car peeled out of the parking lot. “I have to talk to you.”
Her beat up silver Camero had seen better days, but Eden wasn’t worried about the nature of her
car. She was worried about Kevin. She had wasted too many years being bitter. Now all she
wanted to know was if he could forgive her once he learned the truth?
Suddenly, her cell phone trilled bringing her back to reality. She flipped it open placing the
compact item next to her ear.
“Miss Fairchild?” said a woman’s voice. “This is Darla McGrath.”
When Eden didn’t immediately answer, the woman clarified. “I’m the nanny? The one your father
hired?”
“Oh, right.” Eden’s said, her interest growing. “Is there something wrong with Cassie?”
“I’m sorry but there’s been an accident...”
Eden barely heard the remainder of the nanny’s words. She flew down the stairs toward the
Camero and slid behind the wheel.
“This can’t be happening,” she whispered. “Not now. Not before I tell Kevin everything.”
She threw the vehicle into reverse and backed the silver behemoth out of the parking space. As
she drove back to her father’s house, she contemplated on exactly how to tell Kevin about
Cassie.
It all happened so fast. Michela stared down at the man she had pinned to the bed, watching his
lips moved as he begged her to let him put the gun in his mouth and blow his brains out. There
was something in his eyes that made her want to turn away. Something that she recognized like a
houseguest that won't go away: a deep and abiding pain.
"Love isn't worth dying for." Michela said softly, watching the emotion on the man's face. She
pictured Ethan, his face, the way his eyes glazed over with desire, how soft those rough hands
could be, and her words seemed hollow and empty. Sometimes she wished she'd had the guts to
die for him.
"You don't understand."
Michela felt anger rise in her throat.
"Bullshit." She hissed. "I've lost more than you could imagine, but I have never put a gun in my
mouth...not once."
The man glared up at her, self-pity replaced by anger. He opened his mouth to say something
when they were both startled by a loud crash behind them. Michela jumped off the bed and
whipped around to see one of the agents who had been wheeling her down the hall pointing a
shaking gun at her.
"Whoa there buddy." Michela put her hand out and stepped towards the agent when the loud
bang of the gun going off filled the room. A searing pain went through her thigh and Michela
clenched her teeth as she fell to the ground.
The code red had come through only seconds before. Aimee pumped her arms, trying to run
faster. A code red meant only one thing....
Amiee rounded the corner, intent on getting to the south corridor as fast as possible...so intent
that she didn't see the tall gentleman dressed in black until she ran into him.
"Hey." The man said sharply. "What's going on here?"
"Agent down...shot" Aimee said quickly, looking past him, down the hall. She didn't even stop to
think who the man was, or wonder why he didn't know about the code red. She didn't consider
that the man shouldn't be there.
"Who is it?"
"Agent Forsythe."
"Is she alive."
"For now." Amiee glared, "unless I don't get to her in time."
Pushing past the man, Aimee continued towards the south corridor, not even turning around to
see him pull a slim agency issue satellite phone out of his pocket. They would ask her later if
she'd seen anything suspicious, but she'd already forgotten about the man, focusing only on the
agent who could be bleeding to death at that very moment.
"Michela is down." The man hissed into the phone glancing over to make sure the nurse was out
of earshot. "How would you like me to proceed?"
Franklin flipped his phone shut and sighed deeply. He was too old for this, he thought to himself.
The Nightingale project was starting to crumble. Years of experience told Franklin it was time to
pull out. The problem was that pulling out also meant getting rid of the evidence, and in this case,
that meant Michela Forsythe.
Franklin took another sip of the tea he'd been mulling over, sweet and milky, just the way he liked
it. The message had come in last night. Nightingale had surfaced...the real Nightingale. Franklin's
hand gripped the mug tighter. Damn that woman. She'd managed to remain faceless all those
years, her anonymity a condition for job completions. It was this anonymity Franklin had counted
on, figuring he could get Michela into the Black Council and destroy Julian Black. All he needed to
do was brainwash Michela into believing she was Nightingale, an easy feat considering Michela's
already fragile mental state. But now that the real Nightingale had showed her face, which was
nothing like Michela's, it would be impossible to get her into the Council.
The remaining problem was Michela.
Franklin thought back to phone call he'd just received. She was lying in the Legacy infirmary,
injured. Franklin knew that putting her under anesthesia would bring down the defenses of her
already weak psyche, and then it was only a matter of time before the Legacy doctors realized
that their patient had been subjected to some kind of treatment to alter her personality. After that,
Michela would be subjected to the standard seek and destroy testing the Legacy put any agent
through who was considered a security risk. It would only be a matter of time before they traced
the brainwashing to him, and then all hell would break loose. Especially considering everyone
thought Franklin Fairchild was dead.
There was one solution, a final solution, but even that wouldn't solve all his problems. Franklin
picked up his satellite and dialed the number for his agent who was at this moment waiting for
orders.
Forgive me, Ethan.
Franklin took a deep breath as he heard the voice on the other end of the line. He'd given this
order countless times, yet this time it felt different.
Kevin somehow managed to find his way back to Legacy headquarters. The halls were buzzing
with activity per usual, but he didn’t comprehend any of it. Oblivious, he stalked down the
hallways and ended up in the shooting range. Somehow he knew shooting at invisible enemies
would take his mind off his troubles. He loaded the first target and sent it a few hundred yards
back. As he blasted the paper form full of holes, his mind wandered back to the infirmary.
Her hair shined like brownish black rain spilling down her back, and she was wearing some sort
of silky nightgown that rode up on her thighs as she straddled the man in bed. All at once, he
knew why this was bothering him. He was jealous. First of Ethan and his hold on Michela and
now this man. Who was he and how had he so successfully insinuated himself into Michela’s life?
Kevin emptied the clip into his paper adversary. Take that, you damn mystery man, he thought.
A giant hole pierced the outlined figure directly over the heart.
“Dammit!” Kevin slammed the gun down and tried to quell his rising anger.
“Whoa, there amigo,” Boswell Chapman said from his hiding place two partitions away. “Looks
like you need someone to talk to.”
Kevin took in Boswell with his silver hair clamped in a pony tail and a pair of black ear phones
hanging around his neck.
“Boswell, don’t take this the wrong way, but get lost!”
“So that’s how it’s going to be? Get lost? A word of advice. If you don’t talk about whatever is
eating at you, it will tear you up inside.”
Kevin reloaded his clip and repositioned a new target.
“It’s not like I didn’t see it coming. I practically set myself up for to fall hard for her.” He fired a few
rounds then paused in thought.
“Is this about Michela or Eden? I heard she was back in town.”
“Seeing her again dredged up the demons I thought I had put behind me. Michela only added an
aura of complication to the mix.” He shot two more rounds then brought the paper target forward.
“Why am I such an idiot, Boswell?”
“You’re not an idiot, Kevin. You’re a man in love.”
“Are you sure? Julian Black shouted into his cell phone. He was connected to a Council operative
who had important information to pass along to him.
“Yes, sir. We intercepted a transmission between Kevin Fairchild and that controller Jeffrey.” The
BC operative paused. “She’s in there, sir. That’s a definite.”
Julian’s gun metal blue Jeep bounced down the dirtroad closing in on his destination. He cursed
and shouted into the wind. “Dammit! I can’t believe they left her down there to die. What kind of
brothers are those Fairchilds? Leaving one of their own.”
Over the next ridge the monastery came into sight.
“Hold on, Faith. I’m coming.”
He surveyed the area around the monastery once he arrived. For as far as the eye could see,
complete and total devastation. Julian leaned against a rock and bowed his head. Praying wasn’t
something he was use to doing but he figured he might need some divine guidance right about
now.
“God, I haven’t been the best Catholic, but please don’t let her be dead.”
The communicator crackled at his hip.
“Sir, we have four life forms somewhere far below the surface.”
“Tell me they’re alive.”
Julian held his breath.
“Yes, sir. All alive.”
He exhaled a relieved sigh.
“Take a survey of the outer perimeter and find me an entrance! Immediately!
Ian Fairchild smiled at Faith. His eyes took on an spiteful glint that managed to be even more
sadistic than the man’s eyes who invaded her dreams.
“Faith, what’s wrong? You don’t look happy to see me.”
Gia moved Faith behind her and reached for her gun. It wasn’t there!
In her haste she must have left it in the car.
“You stay away from her asshole!”
Ian clicked his tongue in disgust.
“My, my,” his pause was intentional. “Such language from a woman. Haven’t you heard the
expression, you catch more bees with honey?”
Gia glanced toward Phoenix who was now leaning against the wall. When he coughed, a spray of
blood emitted from his mouth. She had to get both of them out of here. And she had to do it fast,
the boy wasn’t going to make it long in his condition.”
“I wouldn’t worry about him. He’s as good as dead.”
Ian pulled a live wire from the wall. It sparked and crackled proving it was filled with electrical
current. He lunged toward the boy, but Gia blocked him sending him into the control panel. The
wire flailed about landing at last on the bed Ian had been lying on. The bedsheets burst into
flames.
Gia gathered up both teens and shoved them toward the door. “We have to get out of here,
NOW!”
Ian leaped over the obstacles on the floor beating the trio to the door. He locked and bolted it. In
his hand he revealed a gun.
“No one is going anywhere.”