The president moved toward her, bending over to read the screen, two white-haired ladies behind her. “Moving funds?” she asked.
Mercy’s heart beat faster, but she kept her typing even and quick. “Yes. I studied the worldwide forecast, and this will be beneficial to us in about five years.”
Grandmama Geri clasped her wrinkled hands together. She was at least four thousand years old—maybe more. Fairies aged slowly, but after millennia, they started to look like elderly humans. “You’re a good girl, Mercy.”
Mercy sat up straighter in her chair.
President Dawn patted her shoulder. “You’re doing a good job for our people, Mercy. We all must contribute.”
Mercy nodded dutifully. They were few in number, so everyone counted. If one didn’t contribute, one didn’t matter. She wanted to matter. “I’ll keep studying. I promise.”
“I know.” The president took Sandy’s vacated seat, her eyes serious. One was a light blue and the other a stunning opal color. “You have to work harder than the rest.”
Mercy swallowed over a lump in her throat. “Because of the birthmark.” The oddly shaped key on her hip. The one the president told her to hide from anybody not a Fae, especially when she was in the Earth dimension. “I still don’t understand what the key means.”
The president reached out to grasp her arm. “There are three Keys in the universe, and they must never meet. Never be in the same place at the same time. It would be catastrophic.”
Chills spread down Mercy’s back. “I’m bad?”
“No.” The president smiled, but her eyes didn’t crinkle. “You’re good and useful. You have skills to help your people, and you’ll mate someday and increase our forces. But with the Key, you must be careful. Don’t take chances.”
Which was why Mercy only rarely explored other dimensions with her friends. Did it somehow make her special? “You want me unharmed?”
“Yes. If you die, another Key will be born somewhere in your place. And we won’t be able to control, I mean protect, that Key. I would like you to start an internet search for the other Keys. They’re probably well hidden.” The president looked up as Niall Healey strode into the room, one of the new guns they’d developed at his waist.
Although also only fifteen, he’d grown tall for a Fae and already managed the weapons research department. He nodded at Mercy and then focused on their leader. “President? We’ve altered some of the weapons after going through research left by our ancestors. Would you like to take a look?”
The president nodded and stood. “Keep working, Mercy.”
Niall cleared his throat. “I’ll pick you up for the movie later. We might as well enjoy the benefits here.” He left without waiting for a reply.
Mercy turned back to the computer, her stomach hurting. Niall was nice and all, but she didn’t get those tingles from him that the women in the books she’d found did. But at least he didn’t seem to be bothered by her birthmark, which all of her friends had seen at one point or another. Nobody would tell her what the Key meant, but sometimes fear filled their eyes when they looked at her.
She hunched over the keyboard, working furiously. Her meaning and value should never be questioned. She’d prove it by working harder than anybody else. Always.
The roll of thunder pulled Mercy back into the present. Wonderful. Another storm in another night. Apparently Alaska and Scotland were experiencing a similarly stormy spring. Once she could teleport again, she would find a nice warm island in the Pacific somewhere and drink margaritas and eat coconut shrimp. All day.
Her head ached. She glared at the ties around her wrists.
She was Mercy O’Malley, damn it. Nobody tied her to a bed. Not even the sexiest demon ever born. Or vampire. Or demon-vampire hybrid. Whatever Logan was, he didn’t get to secure her like this.
She studied the iron headboard with its design of a Celtic knot surrounded by intricate lines. The work was beautiful.
Swinging her legs around so her butt became a fulcrum on the bed, she kicked right below her bound hands. The iron clanged against the wall, vibrating wildly. Her skin prickled as adrenaline flowed. She could do this. Aiming even more carefully, she kicked in the same place. The bottom of the rod holding her seemed to give a little. She kicked harder, and pain ricocheted up her leg.
She bit her lip. That really hurt. Between her bleeding wrists and aching legs, she could use some more of that demon blood. Warmth flooded her at the memory.
No. Enough of that. She had to get free. So she kicked three times in rapid succession. The rod pulled almost all the way away from the bottom of the headboard, looking cracked.
Her lungs filled. Aiming carefully, she kicked right at the crack. It split all the way in half. She jerked her hands free with so much force, she rolled across the bed and nearly fell. Regaining her balance, she looked at her damaged wrists. The ties still held them together, but at least she was free of the bed.
Scissors. There had to be some in the kitchen.
Ignoring her shaking legs, she ran out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, where she yanked open drawer after drawer. No scissors. Who didn’t keep scissors in the kitchen, damn it? She grabbed a knife and tried to twist it to cut the ties. The blade cut into the flesh of her palm, and she squeaked.
Ouch.
Okay. Dropping to her butt on the cold tile, she lifted her knees and clamped the knife handle between them. Lightning zinged outside. Great. More lightning. Enough already.
