Dying for a Living (A Jesse Sullivan Novel) (27 page)

“Is that what you want Santa to bring you this year?” I read the box. “A Juko doll?”

Gloria jumped, jittery. I recognized her behavior.

“How much caffeine have you had?”

“Too much,” she replied. She must have been pushing herself hard to get the answers Ally and I asked her for. To Gloria, this meant no food or sleep, for however long it took. I’d seen her emerge from a pitch black room after days of silence and drink a gallon of soda straight from the bottle. She said the caffeine scattered her focus enough to cut off the visions. “About Ally—”

She shifted the sketchbook under her arm as if it were a burden to hold. I didn’t realize she’d carried it in from the car. I was too busy hefting around the pug.

She flipped open the book. “This is it.”

The page was nothing but a black charcoal smudge across the entire page. It might as well have been blank.

“I don’t get it,” I said.

“Darkness,” Gloria said, concerned. “Her future is darkness.”

My heart pounded. “She’s dead?”

“Not yet.”

Yet, yet. Gabriel’s words came back to me. She isn’t harmed yet.

Gloria flipped through several sheets colored solid black. “She’s here, somewhere right here.”

The following five pages were various aspects of downtown. The river, the buildings, the church bells.

“Not here in the office,” Gloria said, turning the page. Clearly she was irritated that I wasn’t as perceptive as she was. “But she’s close.”

I was thinking hard and chewing my lips.

“She was coming back to talk to the police,” she added.

“You saw that in your vision?” I asked.

“I got a call from her brother,” she said. “He’s driving down from Chicago to represent you and Ally. Ally told him she’d found the girl.”

“If fake-Brad Cestrum was pretending to be a priest, they must be at the Church,” I said.

“Could be,” she said. “I hear those bells like they are right on top of me.”

Please be alive, I thought. Please Ally. Please.

Gloria leaned forward. “I have a confession.”

She spat the words at me as if she’d been holding her breath.

“I hear people go to church to confess, but I don’t think that’ll get us in,” I said, still thinking about how I would get Ally back. If fake-Brad was there, he’d recognize me for sure.

“No, I need to tell to you the truth.” She ran a palm over her head. “I screwed up.”

I waved her on, hoping she’d get to the point.

“I’m so sorry, Jesse.” Her chest heaved as if bucking some great weight.

“For what?” I asked.

“A month ago I saw Eve kill you. I didn’t realize that was what I was viewing at the time. Sometimes visions have no time signifiers attached to them, especially in your case. I told Brinkley this and gave him the picture of the man I knew to be behind it. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t want you to change anything. If you change your mind, the vision changes and we end up in the dark again. It’s like starting over.”

I remembered the picture in her book of Eve beheading me and her turning the page quickly before I could get a good look. This time she showed me the same sketch but with the fake-Brad-priest in the room. Shit.

“It would have been fine if someone else wasn’t manipulating the situation. I feel it. It’s like watching someone weave a web around you, moving you into place. I had to do something, Jesse. I told Brinkley months ago. And I told Ally the night before you left for Illinois. I needed help to get you out of this.”

“Who is manipulating the situation?”

“I put you in the trap,” she said. “I’ve moved you, Brinkley and Ally into the trap instead of out of it. I am the reason why Eve got to you at all.”

Chapter 22

“
I
didn’t know there was another player. I swear I didn’t,” she said.

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘another player’,” I said.

“Another remote-viewer,” she said. “But he doesn’t follow the rules.”

“The bad guys have a viewer too?” I asked. Who could recruit a freelance viewer? I was back to wondering who was to blame—the military, the FBRD or the Church.

Gloria gave me another picture, the most striking I’d ever seen. Ally, Brinkley and I were somewhere dark, shadowed stone surrounding a pocket of light cast by a lamp fixed to the wall. In the light, it was obvious I was dead, quite dead. Ally collapsed on my chest, didn’t look so well herself. Brinkley was unconscious or dead against a wall. A fourth person was also in the room, but indistinguishable except for a shadow in the corner of the frame.

Then it hit me. Gloria wasn’t the only person who’d given me a drawing this week. I searched my pockets frantically and found Rachel’s picture folded in the front of my jeans. Thank God, I’d been too busy to wash my clothes and had a habit of wearing my jeans several days in a row—unless they were bloodstained.

I unfolded the paper with shaking hands.

Apart from the fact that Gloria was a better artist than Rachel, it was almost the exact same picture with one exception. In Rachel’s picture, I clutched Nessa against my chest, trying to save her. And Ally was clearly dead, her stomach dark with blood. In Gloria’s version, there was no Nessa, only the unclear fourth shadow.

“Rachel gave me this picture when I was in St. Louis. She told me ‘Choose carefully.’” I stared at the two pictures comparing them. “Shit, Gloria, if everyone in this picture is dying, there is no way I can save them all.”

I searched the pictures for clues. Ally. Brinkley. Poor little Nessa. Would I really have to choose? I could only replace one person.

“Why are these pictures different?” I asked.

Gloria pulled at her face as if exhausted. “If I drew mine before she did, the girl may not have been involved yet.”

“When did you draw this?” I asked.

“Last night,” she said. “It’s like he knows me.”

“Your drawing is the most recent,” I said. “You’re certain he’s an A.M.P.?”

“He’d have to be,” Lane said. He came up behind us and wrapped his arms around my waist. I didn’t object. “That’s the only way he’d see the threads.”

“He’s good,” Gloria added, reluctant to leave her own thoughts. She met my eyes again. “He led me to believe I could prevent you from making this choice.”

“What choice?” Lane asked.

“Do you have any idea who it might be?” I asked her. “Anyone come to mind?”

“What choice?” he asked again.

“Someone comes to mind,” she admitted.

“I’ll have to break into the church.” I looked at the picture again. “And this is what I have to look forward to.”

Lane snatched the two pictures from my hands. “You’re not going.”

“I have to go.” I pointed at the horror scene. “If I don’t everyone in this picture will die. Saving one person is better than saving no one.”

Someone called out to me.

I froze. My first thought was cops, but the voice was too soft, feminine to be here to bust me. And it wasn’t Gabriel because Lane tensed too.

“It’s not the police,” Gloria said, relaxing her shoulders. “But we don’t have much time.”

Kyra appeared in the hallway connecting our office to the comic bookstore.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. I pulled her into the store, hoping she wasn’t seen by any patrolling police. Worse, how did she get in? I sent Lane to check and he said the office had been unlocked. Ally wouldn’t have left the office unlocked on purpose and she was the last one there.

“You never called me,” Kyra said. “I called your cell and your house but you didn’t answer. I couldn’t get ahold of Ally either. I thought I’d drop by and see if you were okay. I was worried.”

I’d forgotten that the last time she saw me I had just been carted away by Garrison. I should have called. “Sorry. They just asked some questions and let me go.”

“I also came to invite you to my presentation,” Kyra said. She looked at Gloria who came to stand beside me. “I know you might not want to come because it is in the church here, but you might really like it.”

“You’re giving a presentation at the church?” I asked. I pointed at the street beyond the large glass windows. “This church?”

She nodded, placing a beautifully gilded invitation in my hand. “I’ll be talking about Baroque art and architecture. There are some really beautiful pieces inside the cathedral that I’m discussing in great length in my presentation. It’s tomorrow night if you want to come.”

Gloria squeezed my arm. “This is what we’re waiting for.”

I slowly grinned from ear to ear. “Hey, Kyra. Can you help me with something?”

Gloria stayed behind with the pug while Kyra, Lane, Cindy and I went to search the church quickly for Ally and Nessa.

I wasn’t wearing any sexy tactical gear like ninja babes in the movies though. Just jeans, my usual black zip-up hoodie and the new matching sneakers that Lane had just given me.

“So I am going to pretend to inspect the cathedral for tomorrow,” Kyra said when we had just a city block between us and the church. “The rest of you are my tech team, so if someone stops you, just say you are looking for wiring or the fuse box or something. But how will you know where to look if you’ve never been inside?”

I pointed at Cindy. It was part of the reason why she’d been called in. I also hoped two Necronites were better than one and meant more people would get out of this alive. I’d just have to keep her away from the toilets.

Though Cindy didn’t seem particularly focused. She hadn’t said a word since we left the office. She seemed lost in her own thoughts. Or maybe she was having a visit from Raphael. The way she looked worriedly over her shoulder and mumbled under her breath made me think so.

“I know most of it,” Cindy answered. “But we shouldn’t split up.”

“We’re adults. We can handle ourselves,” I said.

“One: the place is huge, you’ll get lost. Two: that’s how people die in the movies,” Cindy said.

“Can’t we understand anything without a movie reference?” Kyra asked.

“The evolution of our culture will of course impact the evolution of our perceptional abilities and social understanding,” Lane replied.

“He means no,” I answered.

“We’re not splitting up,” Lane said again.

“You’re too old for tantrums,” I said. “What’s your problem?”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Kyra added. “We’ve got a great cover story.”

“Did you show them the drawings?” Lane asked.

“What drawings are you talking about?” Cindy asked. Everyone stopped.

“Gloria drew pictures of everyone in the church,” Lane said. “dying.”

“First of all,” I said, knowing if I didn’t correct this immediately, I’d be going into that church alone.

“Kyra and Cindy weren’t in the pictures. You weren’t even in them. Secondly, I was the only person dying. And I can’t not help Ally.”

I was firm about this, hands on my hips and everything. I’d beat up Lane and throw myself through one of the church’s windows if I had to. Well, I’d try to beat up Lane anyway. At the very least, I would go alone.

“I wasn’t in the pictures?” Cindy asked.

“No,” I said and dared Lane to correct me.

“Then we’re safe,” Kyra chimed. “Let’s go save the day.”

“I go with Jesse,” Lane said and yanked open the cemetery gate, the last thing standing between us and the small dark door tucked into the side of the church. “Kyra goes with Cindy. This way dying still isn’t an option for anyone.”

“Fine with me,” Kyra said and filed through the wrought-iron frame first. Cindy grudgingly followed.

We weaved ourselves in and out of the rough granite tombstones jutting skyward. I felt strange as we walked over the graves. Did I feel something stir underground? No way. It must have just been the rumble from the main road or something or the leaves that crunched and hissed as we shuffled through. I wasn’t stupid enough to let Mr. Reeves’s dumb stories spook me. Probably.

Lane whirled around. “Go ahead and announce we’re here.”

“Sorry,” I retorted. “I forgot to come by and rake the whole cemetery today on account that I was running from the law.”

He whirled around and continued toward the door. I would like to add that he made more noise in his pouty shuffle and big boots than the three of us women made together. Yet, we arrived at the door without being seen. Lane reached it first and opened it slowly. He froze, surprised to find it still unlocked. I was surprised too, looking to my friends for a possible explanation.

“What if they know we’re here?” Cindy was glancing around us, suspiciously.

“Then we look stupid standing here deliberating,” I replied. I shrugged off thoughts of the spooky evil remote viewer watching my every move.

“Or it’s because he’s still working,” Lane offered, pointing in the direction of a gravedigger. He’d paused in his digging long enough to glare our way, or at least I thought so. It was hard to tell because his face was obscured by the dark shadows of the tree hanging over him. He was nothing more than a silhouette leaning against a glint of metal in the darkness.