Pure Blood (Time Spirit Trilogy, #3) (21 page)

“More lies!” Gemma sat up. “You’re going to
make me live with
more
lies!”

“Sweetie…” Harrison reached for her hand.

“No! Don’t.” She jerked away from him and
stood. “I can’t keep doing this! He’s dead! DEAD!” Her eyes were
wild as she turned on him. “And you guys are sitting here talking
about dumping his body in the ocean as if you were heading out for
a late night fishing trip!”

“Lucia,” Gabe’s voice was steady. “It’s the
only way for now. You know we can’t get the police involved.”

She closed her eyes and eventually nodded.
Harrison remained where he was, watching her in silent agony.

“I’ll deal with the body. Just stay put and
I’ll call you when I’m done.” Gabe said a swift goodbye.

With the caution of an animal tamer, Harrison
rose from his seat and approached his girlfriend. She remained
where she was, allowing him to wrap his arms around her. After a
few stiff moments, Gemma relented and slid her arms around his
waist. He ran his hand up her back and into her hair, softly
gripping the back of her head.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered.

“Would you stop saying that?” She drew her
body away from him. “How is this
ever
going to be okay?”

He shook his head and frowned.

“They need to know.” She moved out of his
embrace and reached for his keys. “They need to know what they’ve
done.”

Chapter
Thirty-One

Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida – 2011AD

Harrison was gracious enough not to stop her,
but he still didn’t let her drive. They rumbled towards Ponte Vedra
Beach without saying a word. Gemma studied Harrison’s hands as they
gripped the steering wheel. His whole body was wired to explode;
she could only guess what he was thinking.

“It’ll be okay. I’m just going to talk to
them.”

“If they lay one finger on you…”

“I won’t let them touch me.”

“You got that right. I’m not going to let
them within a foot of you.”

She glanced at his steely expression and
nibbled on her cheek.

Oh babe, you’re not going to like this.

“Actually, I need to go in alone.”

Harrison’s head jerked like a malfunctioning
robot. He shot her a disbelieving glare before turning back to the
road.

“I’m not letting you do that, Gem.”

“Babe,” Gemma swallowed, “I’m going in alone.
I don’t want them to see you.”

Harrison pulled the car to the side of the
road. They lurched to a stop and idled in fuming silence. Gemma
decided to remain calm and wait for the explosion. Harrison’s
knuckles went white as his hands wound around the steering
wheel.

“I’m not taking my foot off this brake until
you let me go in with you.”

Feeling mean, but determined, Gemma placed
her fingers on the door handle. “Then I guess I’ll just have to
walk.”

“Gem,” Harrison grabbed her wrist.

She turned to face him, but left her body
angled for the door. Harrison’s eyes begged for her to relent, but
she couldn’t.

“How can you expect me to stay in the car
after what they did to you last time? I want to be there. I need to
protect you.”

Gemma couldn’t keep a small smile from
appearing.

“I’m not asking you to drop me at the gate
and go. I’m just asking you to stay in the car when we get there.
You can even leave it running. If I come bursting out the door then
we have a quicker get away.” She placed her hand gently on his
fingers. “You have to trust me. I won’t let them touch me
again.”

His fingers remained tight.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll leave my
phone on so you can hear the conversation. That way if things go
wrong, you can come in and help me.”

Very slowly his fingers began to relax. His
gaze was still agonized when he released her, but he did consent
with a stiff nod.

Gemma took her hand off the door as the car
moved back into the flow of traffic. They didn’t say another word
until the car was parked outside the Hart’s home and she had dialed
Harrison’s number. He answered after one ring then gazed at her
solemnly.

“Promise me you’ll be careful.”

Gemma ran her fingers down his cheek. “You
have my word.”

With a light kiss, she got out of the car and
walked down the driveway before she could change her mind.

Penelope and Alistair were sitting around the
kitchen counter, sipping coffees and nibbling on muffins as if it
were any other Saturday afternoon. She stepped into the doorway and
watched them both jump with pleasure-filled surprise.

“Thank God you’re safe.” Alistair shook his
head with a soft smile. He sounded so genuine, Gemma nearly
believed him.

“Sweetie,” Penelope jumped from her seat and
came to embrace her. “I knew you’d come home.”

“Stay where you are!”

Penelope froze in position, clearly
astonished by Gemma’s coldness.

You two are unbelievable!

After a stony glare standoff, Penelope folded
her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow, her standard pose
for battle.

“We’re glad to see you’re safe, Gemma.”
Alistair shone her a smile, obviously trying to defuse the tension;
she wasn’t biting.

“In spite of you, I am. Now, what did you do
to Simeon?”

She watched with disgust as both their eyes
lit with triumph. Penelope’s battle pose diminished as she spun to
give Alistair a quick wink.

“I take it you went back and saw his bedroom…
ten years ago?”

“Something like that.”

“It worked. Alistair, it worked!” Penelope
was nearly jumping with glee.

“Not quite,” Gemma’s voice was sharp enough
to pop any bubble. “He’s dead.”

“What did you do to him?” Alistair rose from
his seat, clearly annoyed.

“
I
didn’t do anything to him! His body
wasn’t made to travel. He was just a normal human and should have
stayed that way!”

“I must have the formula wrong.” Penelope
tipped her head and frowned.

“It’s okay, honey.” Alistair stepped behind
her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “That’s why we’re doing
these tests.”

“Tests! We’re talking about people’s lives
here! This business venture of yours is sick!”

“We’ll get it eventually.” Alistair ignored
Gemma’s yelling and kissed his wife on the head.

“At least we don’t have to start from
scratch.” Penelope shifted her adoring gaze from her husband to
land a cold glare on Gemma. “Some more of your blood would be
helpful. A decent sample this time.”

“You are not touching me again.”

Alistair approached her with unexpected
speed. Gemma fled, but he grabbed the back of her shirt before she
could make it to the front door. She let out a scream as he wrapped
an arm around her waist and lifted her off the ground.

“Take her to the room. I’ll get the needles
ready.” Penelope clipped out of the kitchen.

Gemma threw her head back. Alistair dodged
the blow and squeezed her with iron arms. She kicked and flailed,
but her fight was fruitless as he carried her out of the kitchen
towards the back end of the house.

Having lived more than two years in this
home, she thought she knew every nook and cranny, but as Alistair
hauled her into the laundry and opened a cupboard door, she
realized she was wrong.

Her mother had never been territorial over a
washing machine. It was much worse.

She let out a gasp as she was thrown into a
small room. A single chair stood in the middle beneath a bright
light. It looked like an interrogation room, but that wasn’t the
scary part. The thing making Gemma’s muscles spasm with terror was
the chair. It looked like an execution chair, with straps around
the wrists and ankles. Next to the chair was a metal trolley
layered with sterilized implements and along the wall were glass
cupboards filled with vials and jars.

She saw her mother’s laptop open in the
corner, on a desk piled high with paperwork.

Gemma jumped up to push past Alistair and get
free. He slammed a fist into her stomach. She buckled over, gasping
for air, as the man she used to call father grabbed a handful of
her hair and hauled her towards the chair.

“No,” she managed and lurched away again.

He gripped her shoulders and threw her back.
She landed in the chair with a plop and barely had time to react
before his fist hit her square in the jaw. Her head swayed
backwards and she winced against the pain.

Her limbs felt like spaghetti as they were
strapped into the chair. As Alistair reached for her foot, he
noticed the bandage on her ankle. Ripping it off, he stared at the
wound, rubbing his thumb over the scab.

“It looks like you hacked it out with a
knife.”

“I did.”

Gemma couldn’t tell whether he was livid or
impressed. His expression seemed to be a mixture of both.

“It must have hurt,” he muttered.

“It made me free from you. It was worth every
ounce of pain.” He dug his finger into her wound as he placed her
foot into position and tightened the strap.

She drew in a sharp breath. "How did it
work?"

Alistair eyed her for a moment, looking
proud. "Penelope designed it. We made sure you had it inserted as
soon as we got you. We needed to make sure it worked once your
traveling cells activated."

"Traveling cells?"

"Yes, all time spirits have them. They are
the cells in your blood that give you the ability to travel. During
puberty they activate."

"And if they don't get activated?"

"They lie dormant in the body."

So that's what Gabe was hoping for me.
How many years had she pined for that reality?

"It works like a remote... and I'm the
control." He grinned, pulling the back of his shirt collar down to
reveal a dark brown mark at the base of his neck. "The tentacles on
the birthmark draw the cells towards it. The more pure a time
spirit's blood is, the more cells they have. The concentration in
your blood is the highest we've ever seen. You had the strength to
charge whatever other birthmarks were linked to you... until you
took it out. Such a waste."

"That's why you want my blood so bad."

"Smart girl," he mocked. "Yes, with you
turning 18 and getting a whole new influx of fresh cells, you're a
power house. You see, the gold dust is the most pure form of the
cell, that's why we had to get those vials. Mixed with active cells
in the blood stream..." he smiled, "the possibilities are endless.
Simoen is proof of that."

"Simeon is dead!"

Alistair clicked his tongue. "She just has to
get that formula right. Don't worry, she will."

"You're sick."

"No, Gemma, I'm a visionary." He looked like
he actually believed it.

She fought off the tears, trying to find the
calm and focus she’d need to get out of this situation. She
couldn't let them have any more of her blood. She wouldn't be a
part of this. Her eyes darted around the room. There was no point
traveling anywhere… she’d just end up right back here.

Although would I still be strapped in the
chair?

Alistair slapped her face. “Don’t even think
about traveling. You’ll just end up right back here and I’ll be
waiting to pounce on you.” His eyes glittered as he leaned towards
her. “There’s no way out of this room, Gemma,” he whispered into
her ear.

Cold dread seeped down her spine. She closed
her eyes. The only person who could help her now was Harrison and
if he tried, they would kill him.

Chapter
Thirty-Two

Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida – 2011AD

Harrison was shaking as he ran onto the sand
and headed for the back entrance of the house. Gemma’s scream was
still ringing in his ears. He’d nearly dropped the phone when he
heard it, and listening to her struggle as he tore out of the car
was murder. But then her phone had lost reception and that’s what
was making his limbs shiver.

He knew he couldn’t waltz in the front door
so decided sneaking in the back would be best. He just hoped he
could find her in time. He hated to think what they were doing to
her. His imagination was not playing fair as he approached the
beach access gate and climbed over it.

Landing in the garden with a soft thud,
Harrison took a moment to catch his breath. He couldn’t go in there
guns blazing.

You don’t even have a weapon, you idiot.

He needed something. As he crouched in the
bushes, he made his mind slow down and work through some sort of
strategy.

It was hard to think straight with fear
pulsing through his brain. He shook his head.

Pull it together, Granger!

“A weapon. Let’s start with that.”

He scanned the ground around him and picked
up a large stick. Holding it in the air he swung it then cursed.
Alistair would break that in a second. He dropped it with another
curse and then had an idea.

“The training room,” he whispered.

He crept closer to the house. If he could get
into the training room, he could arm himself with some of the
historic weapons… a sword or dagger might give him the advantage he
needed. He knew both Mr. and Mrs. Hart could pummel him in a
heartbeat, but if he had a weapon it might take them just a little
longer… and that might give Gemma the chance she needed to
escape.

His breathing was punchy as he walked past
the pool and sidled up to the house. He leaned against the exterior
and listened for noises inside. He couldn’t hear a sound. Closing
his eyes, he touched the handle, hoping the whole house was
disarmed. The thought that he would probably be dead within the
hour flickered through his brain as he turned the handle, but he
forced it aside with a slow breath. There was no way he was leaving
Gemma.