25. Clark
TWENTY-FIVE
CLARK
Waking up as the paramedics were in the process of trying to find a vein on my hand was a bit surreal, considering where I just was, and having the sensation that many hours, if not days, had passed, when, in reality, it was a short flight from Halifax to Montréal.
I sat up and didn’t even need to fake feeling disoriented, grabbing onto a plush seat to get to my feet.
“Whoa there, cowboy,” the nearest paramedic said as she stepped over some equipment carefully and wrapped an arm around my waist. I steadied myself with her help, and everyone looked relieved. Then I heard it. The paramedic was talking, but I could only hear her voice inside my head.
“Just act cool. Your thoughts are leaking out everywhere. These guys, we’re not in trouble here, are we?”
I thought about that and decided to err on the side of caution. “The old man likes to collect psychics like some people collect stamps. I’m going to be fine, so I would invent a reason for you to get out of here ASAP.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. Good luck, Clark.”
“Thanks—wait a minute. How the fuck are we talking? I’m not psychic...I’m just...just...Clark.”
“Sounds like it’s time to rediscover who that is.
” She smiled at me, and then said more seriously, “You need to shield yourself. Practice every day, like it’s PT or something.
Just visualize all that space inside you, the unexplored galaxies, as a moat, a barrier, an impenetrable forcefield.
And think of it like putting on a pair of socks in the morning.
You snap on your shield, and you’re good to go.
” She patted my arm and off she went, grabbing one of the heavy bags of machinery and telling the other paramedic in French that she was satisfied with my recovery, and she was going to start their rig for their next patient.
Paramedic Two didn’t waste much time, tossing supplies into the second large bag and making sure no one else needed to be examined.
When there were negatives from Robert, and Edward, she seemed satisfied and offloaded the rest of the medic’s gear, saying it wasn’t that unusual to faint while in an airplane.
I let that comment stand because it was as good of a cover as any, and away she went, leaving just the three of us to talk things out.
“I’m not entirely sure what happened, but thank you for calling for help for me.
It’s appreciated,” I said, looking Robert and then Edward dead in the eyes.
I pictured myself in a castle, with thick protective walls and a moat around it, and the giant swaths of space filled with rogue black holes all around my castle.
I held on to the image in case either of these two decided to start poking around in my head, and found it wasn’t that hard to do, if I just let myself relax and lean into it.
“You’re my grandson, so of course I called for help. Imagine thinking that was a big deal.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Our car is waiting. It’s only about a twenty-minute drive to the house.”
“Where are you, some posh place on the side of Mount Royal?” I chuckled a little because I lived in off-campus crusty apartments and rode the bus and Metro every day to get to school and back, when I lived in this very city and went to McGill University.
I had known hunger and cold and mice in that phase of my life, and to think my own grandfather was probably living it up as a mad scientist in some place like fucking Westmount.
“There’s a home in Westmount that I keep as my permanent residence, but I have several other houses around the world for when travel is necessary.” I shook my head a little, and couldn’t resist asking him where those properties were.
“Well, there’s the Halifax house, a cabin on a rather large swath of Northern Sweden—your grandmother was from there, originally—Singapore, and the Antarctic Research Base.” I picked my proverbial jaw off the floor.
“I’m sorry, did you just say you have a base in Antarctica? And where’s the school where the kids are stashed, on the side of an active volcano in Indonesia?”
“Saskatchewan,” he replied dryly. “And how do you know anything about a school?” He looked at me in a thoughtful way that I didn’t like. Fuck, why did I always have to run my mouth? I tossed in a quick diversion, or at least I hoped it would be.
“Actually, maybe we should discuss this stuff when we are at your house? Or at the very least, in the car? I’m exhausted. Plus, we don’t know who might overhear us. We’re in an airplane hangar.”
“Agreed,” Edward said, “and to be truthful, I’m hungry as well. Let’s get a move on. Chef will have something prepared for us when we arrive.”
We walked to a Mercedes-Benz, black of course, and Edward and I sat in the back, while Robert got the best seat beside the driver.
I liked to look out the window at the views, and I really did love looking at Montréal.
I wished Olly were here to see this with me, but then I remembered why they weren’t—the man sitting beside me arranged to have them kidnapped.
Dear god, and here I was considering calling him “Gramps” sometime and seeing if it irritated him.
“Do we have a privacy screen in this thing?” I asked once we were all buckled in and pulling away from the hangar.
He responded with minimal effort, hitting a button on his side of the car’s door, and up a screen went.
I heard an intake of breath, but before he could launch into a long speech, I said with every bit of volatility inside me directed at him, “Where is Olly McLeod?” I was picturing everything from her isolated in Saskatchewan on some Mennonite-type farm where no one would suspect to look for her—which I think was actually the plot to a movie—to being experimented on at a research base that really was at the Edge of the World, in Antarctica.
“I will not be made to feel threatened by my own grandson,” Edward replied, skating around the question like he was Sidney Crosby, for fuck’s sake.
“And I will not try to build a relationship with a man who refuses to tell me where the person I want to create a future with is. You withholding what is happening to her is not winning you any points.” I realized I had stopped using her new pronoun, but then, outing Olly to the head of the freakin’ Organization was definitely beyond what I was entitled to do.
“I can see in my mind so many possible outcomes to us discussing this, Clark, and not one ends with me telling you where Olly is. Not raiding my home in secret, not bribing or blackmailing my staff, not appealing to Robert’s inherently good nature.
” I snorted. “You look surprised. Didn’t you know that Richard and Jeff are particularly susceptible to having their free will manipulated, if it is executed perfectly?
” Huh. So he was throwing around mind control now, as one of his talents?
Fan-fucking-tastic. Just another reason to be cautious around him.
I needed more time than I felt I had to absorb the implications of this, but I forged ahead, since he was in a chatty mood. “So the kidnappings… Jeff and Robert were being coerced into cooperating? Is that what you’re saying?”
He chortled a little, and replied, “You knew them for a while, while working at Rose. Do you think either of them would easily consent to harming you or Olly? You know they both have a soft spot for her.”
I didn’t get a chance to really think it over, though on the surface their forced cooperation passed the sniff test. This was because we had passed a set of elegant yet serious-looking security gates and were driving up to a large, stately home constructed of stone, looking like it ought to be a school or something, not the private residence of just one man.
I tried to picture my father growing up here and wondered if his childhood had been happy.
At what point did he start to think of the man who owned this place as a monster?
The car came to a stop, and while Daddy Warbucks decided to wait for a servant to open his door, I thrust mine open, stepped out into the driveway, and helped out the man who was currently unloading our luggage from the trunk.
That was a bit of a surprise, that I had luggage.
I’d recognize the two bags anywhere, so I took them under protest from the man who was hefting it all toward the house.
I wondered if there was anything internet- or phone-enabled that I would have access to, and decided that it really would defeat the purpose of snatching someone if they could just call the SPVM—Service de police de la Ville de Montréal—and report a kidnapping at any time.
Nope, this was no doubt going to be an analog “vacation.”
As we entered the foyer, a smartly dressed, no-nonsense-looking woman stood with her hands loosely clasped in front of her.
Everything about her screamed authority, so I put my bags down and waited for my marching orders.
“Ah, Madame Travers. You are a sight for these sore eyes,” Edward said, striding over and kissing the back of her hand.
She playfully slapped the back of his, and it was the first time my grandfather didn’t seem like a creepy vampire to me.
“Madame, this is my grandson, Clark Evans. Clark, this is Madame Travers, the house manager, and you are to treat her with absolute respect. Whatever she says in this household goes. Understood?”
I nodded, and extended a hand to shake hers. “Madame Travers, so very nice to meet you. Travers...any relation to La Bolduc?” I name-dropped the famous and beloved Québécoise folksinger from the Great Depression era.