Chapter Twenty-Five
Bryn scanned the area for someone who might jump out at her as she ran to kneel next to the maid.
“Abigail?” She turned the woman’s body over. Her eyes were wide open, her pupils dilated. Should she try to heal her or find a phone and call for help?
What if time was of the essence? She focused on her life force, imagining it as a small sun glowing in her chest. Once it burned brightly enough, she placed her hand on Abigail’s forehead and pushed her life force into Abigail’s body like Medic Williams had taught her to do with Jaxon. The familiar claustrophobic feeling hit as she channeled Quintessence into Abigail’s veins, feeling for what was wrong.
There was no head trauma. The plush carpet must’ve cushioned the woman’s fall. She pushed deeper. What was that sickening sweet scent? God, it was awful, like rotten meat. Where was it coming from? And then she saw it, an odd grayish substance in Abigail’s blood. That had to be poison.
She directed her Quintessence in the form of fire to burn the disgusting substance. In a few minutes the gray was gone, and the rotten meat smell went with it. Bryn withdrew her life force from Abigail’s body. Nervous, she watched as Abigail came to, blinked, and looked around.
“What happened?”
Bryn helped her sit up. “I came in here and found you passed out on the floor. Do you feel okay now?”
“I think so.” She tried to stand and wobbled a bit.
“You should sit.” Bryn pulled a chair over. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Abigail sank into the chair. “I came in, opened the curtains, and set the table.” She pointed at the table set for one. Then I checked the food to make sure it was hot.” Abigail blushed. “Don’t tell your grandmother, but I ate a few strawberries. I’ve been up since five and…”
“You don’t have to justify why you were hungry.” Bryn walked over to the dish of strawberries set on the table. “Are these the strawberries you ate?”
“No. I filled your dish, and then ate the extras before I put the plate back on the cart.”
Bryn stabbed a berry with a fork and sniffed it. The faint odor of rotten meat made her gag. “These are drugged or poisoned. We’ll explain what happened, and then my grandmother can have them tested.”
Abigail wrung her hands. “Please. I’ve worked here for years. I don’t want to be fired.”
Seriously? Her grandmother would fire someone over eating extra food? Abigail would know better than she did. “Fine. Let’s say I came in while you were dishing out the strawberries. I said it would be a shame for the extras to go to waste and suggested you eat them. Does that work?”
“Your grandmother will yell at you for fraternizing with the staff.”
“I think my grandma is going to be yelling at me about a lot of things. I don’t mind. Now, as soon as you fell, I used Quintessence to help you. Okay?”
Abigail nodded. “Thank you.”
Bryn walked over to a phone set on a side table. “Here we go.” She spoke to Rindy, and her grandparents swooped into the sun room five minutes later, looking beyond pissed off.
“Tell me everything,” her grandfather said.
Bryn shared the story she and Abigail had set up. Her grandfather grilled Abigail on who prepared the food.
“The new chef prepared everything,” Abigail said.
“We didn’t hire a new chef.” Her grandfather pulled a cell phone from his pocket and stomped from the room shouting orders. Her grandmother headed for the door, signaling that Bryn and Abigail should follow.
In the kitchen, the staff gave a description of the new chef. He’d shown up that morning claiming to be substituting for the normal chef, who was out due to the birth of his son.
“Call his house, make sure he’s okay,” Bryn said, to no one in particular.
Her grandmother looked at her like this was an odd request.
“The last time someone tried to kill me, they killed the plumber to take his place.” How could her grandparents have forgotten that?
“Maybe this is just food poisoning?” Abigail said like she wished it were true.
“No. I’m sure it’s people trying to kill me, again.” Bam. Bam. Bam. Her head pounded like a mariachi band was playing inside it. “Funny that I’m getting used to this.”
“I am not.” Her grandmother spit the words out.
A man cleared his throat. “Pierre is at home. His wife had a baby boy. They’re all okay.”
“He’s fired,” her grandfather roared.
“You can’t fire him because the temp agency sent a bad guy in his place. Fire the temp agency, not the man who has a wife and child to support,” Bryn shouted.
“Don’t tell me how to handle my staff.” Her grandfather spoke through clenched teeth.
“They’re not just your staff. They’re people with lives and families. They matter. You can’t just move them around like they’re pieces on a chessboard.”
The only sound in the room was the clock ticking on the wall. Everyone looked ready to duck and cover, even her grandmother.
“You are an ungrateful brat,” her grandfather said.
“You’re inconsiderate and narrow-minded,” Bryn spat back.
Her grandmother looked ready to burst a blood vessel. “That’s enough. Both of you need to learn to control your tongues and your tempers. The problem here is that someone made an attempt on your granddaughter’s life under your roof. Again. Focus on that. You can work out your personality differences later.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say that it wasn’t her personality that was the problem, but since she didn’t want to be kicked out, she offered him an olive branch.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be disrespectful. It’s just… I thought I was safe. It’s unsettling to find out these people are organized enough to come after me so quickly. It’s only my second day here. How did they even know where to find me?”
“I imagine news of your parents’ passing has made its way through the social network,” her grandmother said. “People would have heard you left campus with us. It was only logical to surmise that you’d stay here.”
Bryn kept her gaze on her grandfather. Waiting for some acknowledgment that she’d apologized. He didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow in her direction. What had she expected? Common civility? She could hear her grandfather claiming that he wasn’t common. The idea made her laugh.
“What about this situation do you find amusing?” her grandfather asked.
“Sometimes you have to laugh or cry. I’m choosing to laugh.”
“None of this is funny.” Her grandmother stalked over to the refrigerator and yanked the door open. “I want all this food removed and the entire kitchen sanitized.” She pointed at Abigail. “Give the guards a description of the culprit and then go see a medic to make sure you’re okay.”
Abigail scurried from the room.
Her grandmother gave orders and handed out assignments to the staff. After everyone had a task to carry out, her grandmother turned to her husband. “I presume you will speak with the guard and the Directorate about this.”
“Of course.”
Bryn’s stomach growled loudly enough for her grandparents to hear. They both regarded her with distaste.
“I didn’t eat yet this morning. Since you’re getting rid of all the food here, maybe I’ll fly into Dragon’s Bluff for breakfast.”
She expected an argument. Her grandmother surprised her by saying, “Let’s take the car instead.”
“Okay.”
“First you need to change into something more suitable.”
Crap.
Fifteen minutes later, she and her grandmother sat in the backseat of a large black SUV driven by one of the Red guards. Bryn had changed per her grandmother’s request into a dress, but she’d worn flats rather than heels. They were black patent leather, so it’s not like they were casual.
“Is there any place we can have pancakes?” Bryn asked. Carbs were her go-to comfort food. Right now she wanted a dozen drenched in maple syrup and butter.
“Take us to Suzette’s,” her grandmother told the driver.
She’d never heard of the place. “Is that a restaurant in Dragon’s Bluff?”
“It’s more of a tearoom, but they do serve a nice breakfast. Maybe if I bring your grandfather a box of muffins, he won’t be so testy for the rest of the day.”
Should she apologize for arguing with her grandfather? Nope. She’d already apologized once. It hacked her off that he hadn’t acknowledged the effort she’d made.
“In the past, when you two have fought, has he ever apologized or recognized an apology from you?”
Her grandmother chuckled. It wasn’t a happy sound. “Ephram Sinclair has never apologized to anyone for anything.”