Kenton (2 page)

paperwork that Bart had tossed in front of her. Her lunch time was her time, not his.

She’d told him that before. Not that it mattered, but she had told him. “Now, Emma. I

want to get it to Dad before the end of the day, and you fucking around is gonna make

me late.”

“I’m eating. And in the event that you missed that part, I’m entitled to have one

hour for my lunch. So come back when I’m done.” He drew his fist back and she tilted

out her chin. “Hit me, and see if I don’t go home because of it. Go ahead, Bart, knock me

around and you’ll never get this.”

“He wants it now.” Emma took a bite of her sandwich and said nothing. “You

fucking cunt. You think this is going to win you any points with me? Who do you think

is going to run this place when Dad finally kicks the bucket? You? Not fucking likely.”

He slammed his fists on the table again, a thing he did when he wasn’t winning an

argument. Well, she’d had a shitty day so far, and right now she really did want him to

hit her. She would go to her father this time.

Sweeping everything off her desk in his fit of anger, he stood over her, watching.

Emma reached for the little box and the ring that had fallen out of it by bending over

and leaning under her desk. Just at that moment an explosion rocked the room. There

wasn’t time to think, not even to wonder what Bart had done now.

Emma felt it singe her arms and legs even as the ring slipped over the tip of her

finger. She and the desk went flying back; she felt it hit her several times as heat poured

into the room with her. Screams filled the air…not just hers, but her brother’s as well.

Then everything went black.

Wake up.
She felt rather than heard someone telling her to wake. The pain over her

body told her that she’d be better off just letting things fade out again, but the voice in

her head…it felt like it told her again to wake up.

“I hurt.” The voice, calmer now, told her that she’d be better if she got up and

moved. “I don’t think so. I think I’m broken.”

You are not broken. Not too badly, that is. Come on now, get out of this place before the

others come to find you.
She had no idea why that would be a bad thing when the voice

spoke again.
Should they find you, then all will be lost. Come on now, Emma, you must get

moving. Moving will be good for us both. No one must find you here with me.

“Both? Who is here with me? Hello?” No answer. But then she thought there

shouldn’t be because as far as she knew, there was only one of her. Giggling hurt a

little, so she tried to tell herself that she really did need to move.

Every time she moved something off her, there seemed to be tons more atop her.

Wood and bricks. Glass surrounded her, and it seemed to be in her as well. The desk,

she knew, had more than likely saved her life. Had she been sitting at it instead of

nearly under it, she would have been killed. She did pause a moment to wonder if Bart

had made it, but found that she really didn’t care. Bart was on his own for now.

The debris was thick around her too. Papers were everywhere, most of them still

smoldering. The chair that she’d been in was a broken mess imbedded in the wall above

her head.

Once she cleared herself of what she could to move, Emma could see the street

beyond. Whatever had blown up had taken out the five floors above her sublevel work

station. Gingerly, she made her way to the opening, only to be stopped by the voice

again

No, no, not that way. Go to the back of the ruin. I’ll guide you.
She turned then, not even

sure why she was listening to the voice instead of common sense, but she was hurting

too badly to argue with herself right now. There were people out there in front of her.

She had no idea what she’d find behind her. But she made her way out the way the

voice told her.

It seemed to take her too long to get out. Falling twice, she bumped her head again

and had to lay there for a long time to let the dizziness stop. Emma was sick too, her

belly not liking the way her vision kept going in and out all the time. And she knew that

the long gash in her leg wasn’t good. The blood pouring from it was thick with dirt.

As soon as she was out of the building, she lay back against the one across from it

and looked at where she’d been. There was no way she should have survived that, and

she was sure that anyone else in the building hadn’t. Emma wondered who besides her

brother and her were there, if anyone. And again, she wondered how the hell she had

survived.

The building had been one of the oldest downtown. At five stories, it had once been

the home to a textile company that had gone under in the twenties. Her father had

acquired the building, along with several more, a few years ago, and had taken this one

to use as an office of sorts. It was a front, like most of her father’s businesses, Bart had

told her.

Emma didn’t know. Her brother never put her dad in the best picture when he

talked about him. He was ruthless, a murderer, and even a thug when necessary. If he

was as Bart said, he had changed a great deal since her mother had died a few years

back.

The building now looked like it had never been there. A deep hole—a crater, she

figured it would be called—was where it had once been. Nothing had survived on

either side of it either. The two buildings that were used as storage units for whatever

her father had acquired were leveled. Even the one across from the building had

suffered some major damage. Emma watched as the first firetruck pulled up in front of

the mess.

Your father is dead, I’m afraid.
She nodded at the voice, then regretted that

immediately
. Your brother is alive, but he is badly burned. He and another man, his

bodyguard, will be pulled from the wreckage soon, but they will not mention you are here. But

they will come for you now. The others will come.

“Who will? Why?” The voice told her that it was because of him. “Him who? I don’t

know anyone. I don’t date, I’m not allowed. I don’t even know why I have this voice

talking to me. Do you? Am I…I don’t know, am I dead too?”

You are not dead, Emma, but they come for me. And the rest of us now that I’m awake.

There will be more coming now that I’ve been found.
She stood up then, determined to go

and see if someone could patch her up.
You do and they’ll kill you where you stand.

“Why? What did I do? This was…it was more than likely a gas explosion.” The

voice told her she knew better. “No, I don’t. I don’t know a damned thing. For all I

know, I could be lying there dead in that thing and this is all a dream.”

I’m not a dream, Emma Gentry. I am part of the dragon in the ring.
Emma stopped

moving and looked down at her hand. There it was, the ring. Just on the tip of her

finger.
When you slipped it upon your finger, I knew then that you were the one to carry me.

The one that would take me to my owner. You will, won’t you? Take me home to the one that

awaits me? The rest of me will follow now that I have found you.

“No. In the event you didn’t notice, I’m out of work, no money, and I don’t even

know what is wrong with me that I can hear you talking to me. I’m hurting, injured,

and you won’t let me go and find someone to fix me up.” He told her that she was the

one, and that he would see that she had such riches if she did this for him. “The one

what? I’m just a woman trying to get along in this world my family brought me into.

Can’t you just leave me alone? Please?”

I can keep you safe. And if you promise to take me to my owner, I will help you in ways that

you will need. I will, as I have said, make you a queen that will never have to worry for money

again. I am but a part of the whole. A dragon that must be brought together with the other pieces

of my set.
Emma just wanted to take a nap. Forever.
No, you will need to keep moving. The

man that your brother stole me from, he will come for you because of the ring. He will want you

dead because of the ring.

“Why?” He didn’t answer her and she realized that she’d been asking that a lot to

the unknown. “Fine. I’m going to do this for you, but you’re going to have to do

something for me. I want you to not do a damned thing for me unless it’s to guide me. I

know better than most that nothing in this world comes without consequences. So tell

me where to go and nothing else.”

Nothing?
She told him again that she didn’t want to owe him anything when this

was done.
All right. But I think that you will come to regret that soon enough.

She already did. Moving in the direction that he told her, she felt like she’d broken

more bones than she knew she had. While he told her that she needed to go north,

Emma told him that she needed to go to her home. There she’d get cleaned up and

retrieve the last of her funds. She had no idea where she was going, but wherever it

was, it wasn’t going to be a free ride. Emma thought that whoever was coming for her

would think she was dead long enough for her to get out of her apartment to rid herself

of the voice.

Emma knew on some level that the voice was her own. There simply wasn’t any

way for her to be talking to the dragon of the ring. She wanted out and this was her

subconscious getting her there. So what if the world thought her dead? She was fine

with that as well. Emma Gentry was dead as far as she was concerned too, and she’d

have to come up with a name that would work. As she showered and changed, cleaning

up as much of the wounds on her body that she could, Emma thought of what her life

would be now.

“Anything I want.” She smiled at herself and winced. The cuts on her face made

even doing the simplest things hard. She did worry over the wound in her leg, but at

least it was clean, and the bleeding had stopped as well…for now. As she moved out of

her home, she looked around. There was nothing there, not one thing she would miss.

This Emma was dead.

~~~

“Twenty-four dead and several dozen more injured in the blast that is still under

investigation. There was some talk of gas leaks, but that was ruled out when it was said

that the building called Shipley Textile was the epicenter of the explosion, and there

were no gas lines to that building.”

Baldwin Franks wanted to throw something at the television but refrained. He was

a man that prided himself on control. But the newsperson was not giving him the

answers that he craved. He wanted to know if Bartholomew Gentry and his son had

survived, not the dozens of nameless fucks that meant nothing to him. When the news

anchor paused, pushing her finger to her ear, he wanted to scream at her that no one

believed that she was listening to a fucking thing, but then she turned to the scene

behind her.

“There is news just in that Mr. Bart Gentry, Junior has been pulled from the

wreckage, along with another man by the name of Whitaker. That is all that we know

right now. Mr. Gentry is the son of Bartholomew Gentry, Senior, a man who owned a

great many of the buildings in the downtown area. Mr. Gentry and his son have been

under a great deal of scrutiny for the last several years, starting with the death of the

senior Mr. Gentry’s wife, Anderson Franks Gentry, some years ago. Mr. Gentry,

Senior’s body, along with five more, was pulled from the building about an hour ago,

I’m told.”

Baldwin leaned back in his chair as the anchor continued about the things she had

little to no real information about. Gentry Senior was dead. Baldwin thought that they

both should have been dead, but was sure that the man who’d survived, a man he’d

come to hate more than anything, would land on his feet. Or in this case, flat on his

back. The sooner the entire family was dead, the happier he’d be. They’d killed his little

girl.

He looked over at his man, Steward Jefferies, and told him to get someone on it.

Steward’s phone rang before he could answer Baldwin.

As the other man listened to his call, Baldwin thought of all the ways he’d wanted

to make both Gentry men suffer. There had been times when he’d had Bart in his sights,

but something would always come up. This time he knew he’d taken drastic measures,

but the man was just where he wanted him. It was way past time to kill Bart, and he

was going to be the one to do it, even if he had to do it in front of a bunch of cops.

When Steward hung up, he looked pale as he leaned back in his chair. Baldwin was

almost afraid to ask him what it was, but wasn’t going to seem as if he cared. He not

only was in control of things around him, he also never gave the appearance of caring