Witches Protection Program (13 page)

He dove low, coasting past homes, peering in the windows, looking at families eating breakfast, starting morning chores. It was peaceful, happy, the streets strangely devoid of traffic. Something was off. Wes circled back, slowing down, feeling foolish. It wasn’t as though he was in a real world, but Bernadette’s perception. He stopped short, moving down the suburban street again, looking closely at the families in the room. Something was wrong. All the families were missing adult males. There were no men to be found, not anywhere.

Puzzled, he rose, gaining altitude, cruising along. From his height, he noticed stadiums were lit up like shining beacons. He made a wide turn, moving lower. The fields were filled with men, living in mean barracks, merely
lean
-tos, devoid of heating or the minimum of comfort. Huge bonfires lit open fields. Men huddled, seeking warmth. Guard towers and barbed wire enclosed the fields. Uniformed women marched outside. He gained speed, pushing to the next city, and found another ball field used the same way. Rising higher, he was able to see a giant grid of prisons, holding pens for men. It was a
modern
-day Holocaust.
What is she planning?
Wes wondered, and a voice broke through his consciousness.

“The subjugation of the entire male population of the world.”

Wes ripped off the glasses, finding himself back in the lab, a tall blond woman with a pouty expression watching him closely. “That’s Bernadette’s vision, not mine,” she told him as if clarifying the information.

“It’s crazy.”

“I wouldn’t share that with Bernadette, if I were you.” She held out a graceful hand. “Give those to me.” She gestured at the virtual glasses.

Wes slid them into his shirt pocket. “Morgan!” he called. He moved toward the door, calling a bit more urgently. “Morgan?”

“Oh, she can’t hear you.” Scarlett’s sultry voice followed him. “Morgan needed a little nap.”

Wes turned, his hands fisted. “If you hurt her, I
’ll
—”

“You’ll what? This is our world,” Scarlett told him calmly. “You have no power here.” She moved closer, so close he could feel her warm breath on his face. She reached out to walk long, white fingers with
blood
-red nails up his chest. Their eyes met. She took his inaction as an invitation to run her hands up and down his chest possessively.

“I like you.” She licked her lips. “I could make things better for you,” she whispered close to his ear. “You won’t have to go to an internment camp. You’ll stay with me.” Her eyes gleamed feverously in the dimly lit room.

Wes pushed her away, disgust written plainly on his face.

“Oh, you doubt our power, don’t you? All you men think you are so strong. Invincible. While you’ve been building your empires, making us
second
-class citizens, we’ve been busy building our own.” Her eyes narrowed to tight slits.

“Who says you’re
second
-class citizens?” Wes demanded.

“As witches, our type has been oppressed for years. We are not allowed to do what we want, but that’s the tip of the iceberg.” Scarlett warmed to her subject. She spun away from him, caught up in her anger.

“You’re insane. Women won’t follow you!”

“Think again. They have been deprived of equal pay, equal respect, for too long!” She punched a fist in the air. “This will shatter the glass ceiling. What do you know about equality?” She sneered.

Wes swallowed hard. Seems he did know a lot about shame, about feeling unequal to people who could read with the same effort as breathing. He knew persecution, of being passed over because of a disability or being invisible in a family photo as though he were inferior.

“If you do this, then you are no better than the people you accuse of oppressing you.” He backed out of the room to find Morgan floating in midair, her face serene, a green haze surrounding her.

Wes pulled out his Darrow Trance Lifter, aiming it at Morgan. He pressed the control. Behind him, Scarlett laughed. “That won’t work here, fool. Bernadette has protected her compound. None of your silly toys function here.”

Scarlett came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his midsection, rubbing her body against his. Wes turned abruptly to grab her shoulders, shaking her. Her blond hair flew around her face. She looked up, her eyes smoky. “Like it rough, do you?” She laughed.

Wes released her as if she’d singed him. “Let her go. I said, let her go.”

Scarlett’s laughter ricocheted off the walls. “Why? What are you going to do about it? Here, you’re in my universe! Look at me!”

She spun around, her eyes hot and glowing. “Morgan’s a twit. She doesn’t know how to please a man.”

Wes’s eyes raked her body with a smirk. “And you think you do?”

You could feel the vibration of Scarlet’s anger; the room hummed with it. Balling her fists, she stared at him. All around him, machinery started to smoke. Small explosions sounded as beakers shattered. Computers lit up, whining with life.

“What are you trying to prove?” he mocked her.

“Scarlett. Say my name. It’s Scarlett!” Wind swirled around him, sending papers flying. A burst of static electrified the room.

A cat screeched. Wes knew Luna had escaped; her cry became fainter. “No,” he told her flatly.

Scarlett’s lips firmed. Making a fist, she threw something at him, which bounced off his chest harmlessly. He felt another impact on his shoulder. He started moving purposely toward her. Scarlett opened eager arms, cursing loudly as he brushed past her, approaching Morgan. He wrapped his arms around the floating girl’s inert form, trying to spin her into a standing position. This time, an impact to the middle of his back stung, sending him colliding with Morgan. He refused to acknowledge Scarlett. When the next one smashed into his head, his vision went black for a moment.

“Don’t ignore me!” Scarlett shouted.

“Or what? I don’t like you.”

Scarlett’s face turned red with fury. She ran to him, colliding with his body, sending them into a bank of filing cabinets. “You’re stupid. You have no future with her.” She hit him. He deflected her fists easily. “She’s ugly.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Do you have a magic mirror like Baby Fat?” he taunted.

Scarlett screamed, smacking him in the face. “You’re dead, if I say so. You don’t understand. I am going to be the one. Bernadette is going to leave everything to me. To me! That
whey
-faced creep is going down. Morgan can’t have you. She can’t have anything. I am going to have it all.” Scarlett flicked her tongue, her eyes opening in shock when Wes recoiled with disgust. He backed away, asking her, “Do you hiss like a snake too?”

This time, she allowed her tongue to tease him. It moved in a sensuous dance around her lush lips, its forked tips shivering with need. “What’s the matter, you don’t like my tongue? Double the pleasure.” She put her finger near her mouth, wrapping her serpent’s tongue around it suggestively.

“You’re a troll,” Wes said through gritted teeth.

“Have you ever seen a troll? A real one?” she asked, her voice seductive. “We’ll have to revisit this later. Perhaps a threesome. You, me, and a troll I know. Let’s see what you think then.”

Scarlett spun, her eyes fastening on a stapler. She stabbed her index finger at it. It rose, firing off staples like a machine gun while she muttered, “Staples, staples, do not maul, just attach him to the wall.”

Moments later, Wes found himself splayed on the wall of the lab, his shirt and pants fastened by staples. He tried to move but was held fast. Scarlett walked past him, running her hands possessively down his immobile leg. “That was easy,” she said with a snicker. “I’ll be back for you later, and if you cooperate, you won’t end up in an internment camp. Maybe you’ll grow to enjoy troll rolls.” She flicked her tongue at him.

Wes struggled, but the staples wouldn’t move. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Watch me.”

“Morgan!” Wes shouted.

Scarlett ripped a length of tape and levitated so that she was eyeball to eyeball with him. She leaned forward, her lips inches from his. Wes moved his face away, but she grabbed his chin with relentless fingers. Her mouth covered his for a hot kiss. “I’m kinda stuck on you,” she told him with a laugh, then sealed his lips with tape. “I’ll be back for you later.”

Scarlett took out her phone, punching in a number. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m heading there right now. No, I haven’t seen Morgan.” She slid her phone back into her bag. “And neither will you, Bernadette,” she said, more to herself. “She’ll be at the bottom of Red Hook’s harbor.”

Wes called out impotently, his voice muffled by the tape. Scarlett walked out of the room, Morgan floating behind her obliviously. He watched a clock ticking in the corner, cursing Luna and her escape. She might have been able to help in in some way.

It felt like hours later that the tape was ripped from Wes’s lips.

“Why are you hanging around?” Alastair quipped, using a staple remover to free Wes.

“OK, I believe in witches now,” Wes told him as he hopped down. “Where’s Junie?”

“They took her downtown to give a statement. What happened?”

“Scarlett took Morgan. They are headed for Red Hook. You won’t believe what they have planned. How’d you get in here?”

“Bribed the guard. How did you?”

“We just hopped right in.” They got into Alastair’s SUV, racing toward the Brooklyn ports. On the way, Wes recounted what he’d found in Bernadette’s private file.

“This whole thing can’t be real. They’ll never be able to do it,” Wes said when he finished telling the story.

“What makes you think it can’t happen? Sometimes the truth is stranger than science fiction. History is filled with mass killings, enslavements, genocides going back throughout time. Pick a time period, Wes. In the Messenian Wars, ancient Sparta reduced the entire population to slavery, so that slaves outnumbered the Spartans seven to one. Rome enslaved most of Europe, building an empire that spanned the continent. While the British didn’t support slavery at home, they condoned it throughout their empire, creating a vile economy based on slave trade. Slave labor kept the German machine running during the Second World War. Sorry, Wes.” Alastair shook his head. “The idea of enslavement is not as farfetched as it sounds.”

“That can’t happen here!” Wes exclaimed.

“Two weeks ago, you didn’t believe in witches. What will it take for you to understand that freedom is fragile, and we must never forget what man, or woman, is capable of. That’s the reason we protect these women and their right to practice.”

“Willas can use the same argument just as easily. They believe they have those rights too.”

“Look, we can spend a lifetime debating the subject. Every person should have the right to practice and believe what they want, as long as it does not infringe on another person’s freedom.”

“I’m sure Bernadette Pendragon is convinced she is a crusader for a just cause,” Wes said. “I always said you have to get the hydra at the head.”

Alastair slowed, his face whitening with a sudden realization. Holding up a finger, he paused the conversation. “We’re going to have to split up.”

“What?” Wes questioned.

“Call for backup. Get out of the car,” Alastair said, pulling onto the median of the Cross Island Parkway.

The sea crashed behind them. Over the roaring waves, Wes shouted, “You can’t leave me here!”

“They’ll be here in five minutes to pick you up. I’ll meet you in Red Hook,” Alastair responded.

“Where are you going?”

“Pendragon,” Alastair said simply, as if that explained it all.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

M
organ floated three feet off the ground, trailing behind Scarlett, who hummed absently. Scarlett pointed two fingers to the lock of the door, watching it sizzle as the entrance to the warehouse in Red Hook opened. Scarlett snapped on the lights as they walked. She looked with satisfaction at the towers of containers holding millions of containers of Pendragon Glow.

Scarlett turned, waving her arm. Morgan landed with a crash onto the concrete, the green haze gone. Morgan rolled over, rubbing the shoulder that took the brunt of the fall.

“What is going on, Scarlett? Where are we?” Morgan looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings.

“I’d like nothing more than to make you disappear.” Scarlett sniffed.

“I’m not signing those papers.” Morgan rose angrily.

“You think this is about you?” Scarlett laughed, walking around Morgan. “You little pest. You are always in the way. Scarlett, get Morgan a latte; Scarlett, take Morgan’s
dry
-cleaning out; Scarlett, wipe Morgan’s skinny ass.” She stopped to stare hard at the younger girl. “I hate you!” Scarlett clapped her hands and rolled them.

A force tugged Morgan, lifting her and tossing her like wet laundry against a metal container. She hit it with a thud, then slid to the floor. Scarlett motioned again, and Morgan was thrown across the room, crashing into a plastic drum. Black dots swam before her eyes. Morgan reached feebly for her willow wand in her pocket.

“Looking for this, bitch?” Scarlett held up the thin branch Morgan had taken off the tree in New Jersey. “Pretty weak, just like you.” Scarlett dropped it on the floor, using the ball of her foot to grind it into pulp. “That’s what I want to do to you.” She sneered.

“Stop,” Morgan said weakly.

“I want to be her favorite! Why should you have all the luck? What accident of birth gives you the right to have it better than me?” Scarlett screamed, her face mottled red, a vein bulging on her neck.

Scarlett whirled, sending Morgan spinning high. She twirled Morgan faster and faster, so that the room turned muddy. Nausea rose in Morgan’s throat. Try as she might, the words couldn’t squeeze past her gullet. Scarlett slammed her hand. Morgan fell with terrifying speed, staring dully at the floor, thinking this would end it all, when Scarlett halted her with a sickening stop inches above the concrete. The blonde bent over Morgan’s bruised body, her face inches from her own. “Do you know the best part of being a witch?”

Morgan ignored her. Her head throbbed; everything hurt. Scarlett grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at her. “No fingerprints.” Scarlett threaded her cold hands around Morgan’s neck, a gentle caress that tightened, so that the girl thrashed helplessly trying to pry off the strangling fingers.

A male voice interrupted Scarlett. “Excuse me, miss. Excuse me.” The lights around her hummed to life as the entire warehouse lit up.

Looking up, she released the hold she had on Morgan, and she dropped to the floor in a boneless heap.

“Is there a problem here?” a
long
-nosed, potbellied man persisted.

“Do you mind? I’m a little busy,” Scarlett told him.

The little man advanced into the room, followed by a crew of burly longshoremen. “As a matter of fact, I do mind. You got no business here, and being this is our dock, you can’t whack somebody without asking.”

“So, can I use your space to whack her?”

Dominic thought for a minute, his finger by his mouth. He looked Scarlett straight in the eye and replied, “Uh…no.”

“Look, Pinocchio. I’m going to count to three.” Scarlett stood, Morgan forgotten, to face the short man and his crew. “One…”

Dominic folded his arms over his puny chest. Two men appeared at his side,
twelve
-gauge shotguns pumped and ready.

Morgan scrambled to her feet, inching toward a long alleyway of containers.

“Two…” Scarlett’s voice was low, the men’s eyes riveted on her.

Morgan slipped down the narrow passageway, ducking behind the metal boxes to find a hideaway. Scarlett turned to look for her, cursing under her breath when she realized she was gone.

“Three.” Scarlett raised her hands, palms forward, the shotguns making a
ninety
-degree bend to aim at the ceiling.

“You’re a witch!” Dominic shouted.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Scarlett replied, pointing to a container thirty feet high. “Box them in, seal the door, ship them all to Singapore.” The rectangular box fell with a crash and opened like a grapefruit. The men rolled into the center. The box resealed instantly. There was the sizzle of something burning, and a shipping label appeared on the outside. Fists pounded impotently from the inside. Dominic screamed furiously that Ms. Pendragon was going to hear about this.

Scarlett turned to the vast cavern of the warehouse, the drumming from the men imprisoned in the metal box becoming fainter as she walked the aisles. “Oh, little playmate,” she began in a singsong voice. “Come out and play with me. You’ll bring your dollies three. Climb up my apple tree…” Her voice had a breathy quality that echoed down the deserted warehouse. “Cry down my rain barrel. Slide down my cellar door…”

Morgan’s foot slipped. The singing stopped abruptly. Scarlett’s eyes widened, an evil smile on her face. She wet her lips, beginning the song again. “And we’ll be jolly friends…” Scarlett tossed aside a heavy container with her bare hands, her mouth a snarl as she finished the childhood ditty, expecting to find her prey. “Forever more!” Morgan wasn’t there. Scarlett sniffed the air; she knew the girl was nearby. “Come out, come out, wherever you are. I won’t hurt you, Morgan. I love you…like the sister I never had.”

Morgan hung on the back of a corrugated container, her breath frozen in her throat.