Dying for a Living (A Jesse Sullivan Novel) (29 page)

“We can’t just leave you,” Kyra said.

“You’d better,” I said. “It’s two less people for me to worry about.”

“I thought you wanted help?” Cindy asked.

“I want nothing more than to ask for your help.” With Cindy’s help I might be able to save at least two people if that horrible picture comes true. “But I can’t ask you to risk your life. If they want me dead for being a Necronite, then you aren’t safe either.”

Cindy hesitated but I could see the relief in her face. She would have stayed if she had to, but she couldn’t be happier that I’d given her a way out. “But what about you?”

“I’ve got these guys to help me,” I said, smiling at Ally and Lane. “I’ll be okay.”

When Cindy led a reluctant Kyra toward the office, I turned to find Ally all grins.

“What are you so happy about?” I asked her. “I’m going to prison.”

“I’m so happy to see you,” she said. She bit her lip. “I’m so happy. I just knew they were going to shoot me and bury me in a ditch.”

Lane huffed. “So did Jesse get a chance to tell you that we’re—”

I cut him off. Ally was just rescued from a near death. She didn’t need to hear that I was dating someone else right now.

“I’m glad you’re okay too. I wanted to apologize for—hey!”

I fell to the ground as Lane shoved me out of the way and took the full force of the shovel to his own skull. I didn’t even have time to process his body collapsing to the ground beside me before I saw a steel plate whishing toward my face.

Chapter 24

W
hen I woke up, my head was killing me. Not literally, but I wished I was dead just so I didn’t have to feel the massive lump throbbing on the side of my skull. My face was sticky with blood, but I reminded myself that face cuts always bleed profusely, so no need to panic yet. Again, I wasn’t afraid of dying, but I was worried about blacking out before I discovered what was going on.

And I was worried about my face. Ok, maybe I’m a little vain.

As my vision blurred into focus I saw the bed first. A twin-sized mattress like we saw in a room upstairs, sat just to my right against the wall. Ally and Lane were tied up to chairs across from me with a dark door to the left. I jumped up and ran toward them only to be yanked back.

Something had me by the ankle—a little shackle equipped with a bell that jingled.

The door opened and a man entered as if I’d summoned him purposely.

“Hello, again,” he said. He was dressed as Cindy had described him, black robe and white collar. I tried not to think of him with his penis in his hand, standing behind Eve.

“Brad,” I said. “I was wondering when the hell you’d turn up.”

“My name is Martin,” he said.

“Brad suits you better than Martin,” I said. “Martin seems too goody-goody for you.”

I didn’t let on that I knew he wasn’t Brad, or even that I knew he probably wasn’t a priest but an FBRD agent. After all, what else would guarantee a bullet to the brain better than proving I already knew too much?

He smiled. “Did you enjoy watching us? I bet you did, you sick little bitch.”

“Wow, such language for a priest,” I said. “And actually, I was thinking if they offered sex-education in seminaries, maybe your performance would’ve been better. Five minutes? Come on.”

His face burned crimson despite the poor lighting of this cramped room. Martin had an ego. Good to know. Maybe it would get the best of him like mine did me. I was sure going to try.

“I thought priests took a vow of celibacy,” I said. “Do your church patrons know how you and Eve tricked me into dying?”

His face changed into something resembling pain.

“I’ll take that as a no,” I said. “So this is the part where I call you a kettle, because I think you’re the one who enjoyed it. Oh, Martin, don’t tell me. Was it your first time? Well, that explains some things.”

“Shut up!” he barked.

Then it hit me. I realized where the hell I was.

The room spun and I grabbed my head to steady myself, failing to hold back the horror of where we were: stone walls, lamps casting playful shadows. Rachel and Gloria had seen this and if I didn’t do something differently, I knew where this was going.

We would die down here.

All of us.

“Don’t shout, Martin,” I said, and tried to keep breathing. “That shovel gave me a headache, man.”

“Shut up.”

“Not much of a vocabulary. I thought seminary-types were well-educated.” I wanted to keep him talking. To keep him talking meant time. Time meant possible rescue. Bobkins had to be on his way, right? But where was Lane’s phone? It wasn’t on me anymore.

Lane craned his neck to one side then the other. He was gagged, just like Ally. One of his eyes was swollen shut and purple. The other opened wide and the fire in it told me he was going to annihilate Martin first chance he got. I was quite happy to untie him and let him do it, except my little ankle bracelet only let me go so far.

When he saw where I was looking, Martin turned back. His eyes fixed on Ally who had just woken up too. “Good.”

The more of Martin’s teeth that I saw, the more nervous I got.

“Why didn’t you cut off my head as soon as you knocked me out?” I asked, hoping he’d turn his attention on me. “That eager to tie me to a bed? Did you learn a few things from Eve?”

It worked and his eyes flicked to mine. “I know all about your kind. It’s easier to kill you permanently if you’re dead. Decapitation, of course. It’s a small but effective window.”

“Right, I forgot you’ve got plenty of practice by now. You should know how to do it right.” My eyes wouldn’t stay open. I must’ve had a concussion from getting hit in the head with that damn shovel. I hoped my brain was okay. I couldn’t save anyone without my brains.

“Just how much practice?” I asked, trying to stay awake. “Are you responsible for what happened in Atlanta—or anywhere else?” Though I doubted he killed over 1000 NRD-positives by himself. Genocide isn’t a one person job.

“I am a servant of God.” He raised his chin. “I merely do his bidding. Now and always.”

“Right now, it’s not God helping you,” I said. “It’s my own stupidity.”

He liked this answer. He pulled a third chair from the corner and placed it halfway between Ally and Lane, much closer to me than the other two seats.

“Is that for me,” I asked. “Are you going to shoot us in the head like a firing squad or play more pop-goes-the-weasel?”

“This isn’t for you,” he said and rapped on the door twice. And before the door opened I knew who it’d be. I’d seen the drawings after all—and I knew who was missing.

Boston and Swede carried Brinkley in, holding him under each arm, plopping him without ceremony into the chair.

Brinkley’s face was in bad shape, bright blood running along the side of his jaw over, darker crusted blood. Clearly, the torture had been going on for days. The sight of Boston and Swede and their smug faces made my blood boil.

“I can’t believe it,” I said, spitting hatred between my teeth. “Traitorous assholes. He trusted you.”

Martin smiled.

My chest ached to see Brinkley slumped in the chair, clothes wet with his blood and the swollen purple mass that used to be the left side of his face.

Bobkins, it’s time to make your dumbass useful. I thought. Garrison—anybody—hurry the fuck up. We’re out of time.

“He should have chosen our side when he had the chance,” Martin said. “But he chose you and look where it got him. We tried to make him see that there are thousands like you, but he wouldn’t listen. And he was wrong. We’ve been watching you just to make sure, but he was wrong. You aren’t special at all.”

He chose me. All along Brinkley’s been fighting for me. My hard ass boss was really so much more than that. All his coldness, all his discipline—it took on a new meaning now that I knew what was going on around me.

The sad ache in my chest deepened, sparking into anger. “Brinkley is a good man. A loyal man. You wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Martin shrugged.

“Untie me so I can kick your teeth in,” I said.

Martin came close, just beyond my reach. His eyes boiled into mine. “I will untie you.”

I covered one eye. “Ow, ow, ow. You just poked out my eye with your nose, Pinocchio.”

He bit his lip. “I want to see how funny you are when I let you go.”

“You just said you want to cut off my head. Of course, you won’t let me go.”

He grinned. A maniacal maddening grin that made him look carnivorous.

“See, I plan to stab your friends and let you choose which one lives.”

My anger was completely replaced by a crashing wave of fear.

He must have seen it because his smile doubled. “I’m going to stab him, him and her. And then I’m going to walk out of this room. From that safe distance, I’ll enjoy the show. You’ll run around frantic trying to decide who to replace. And once you do, once you’re dead, I’m to come in here and cut off your head while that friend you just saved, watches. I’ll finish up by slitting their throat.”

I didn’t know what to say and I wasn’t in the mindset to hide my complete horror. So he got the full satisfaction of my distress. He can’t do that. He can’t make me choose. He can’t just sit there and watch. Motherfucker. Motherfucker.

“Motherfucker,” I said. “You can’t do that.”

The three of them laughed. Boston and Swede, the traitorous jerks, picked me up under the arms as Martin kneeled down and unlocked my shackle. As soon as my leg was loose I kicked him in the face, which he kindly repaid with a punch in the jaw. My hinges creaked on that one, ears ringing. I didn’t think the jerk had broken it, but a bit more pressure and he’d have knocked my mandible out of socket for sure. The blow sure as hell didn’t help my concussion.

“Don’t do this,” I said. It was as close to begging as I was going to get.

“Consider it done,” he said with a smile. Boston and Swede threw me down on the bed then stood close, waiting.

Martin pulled a knife from Swede’s back pocket, where it’d been this whole time. If I’d known, I’d have done some carving of my own. The moment I saw him, I charged.

But Boston and Swede pushed me back down on to the bed.

“Don’t ruin my fun,” Martin said.

That’s exactly what I wanted to do, ruin his fun. He might kill us, but I wasn’t going to make it easy. But before I could plan my attack, Martin stabbed Lane under the ribs. Lane screamed, the white of his non-swollen eye expanding as he sucked in as much air as he could into his rapidly deflating lung.

I dashed forward and Boston picked me up, lifting me off the floor so even my feet couldn’t touch. I had more than a few choice words for the traitorous SOB, but Martin after dealing Lane a second stab wound, moved on to Brinkley. He stabbed Brinkley in the stomach twice. Brinkley grunted, but was so out of it from the previous beating I don’t think he felt much. Then Martin went to Ally.

He came around the back of her chair, bending forward to press his cheek to hers.

“I know she’s your favorite,” he said. He took a deep breath, smelling her hair. He slid the blade down the front of her chest, popping off one shirt button, then two. With her right breast exposed he cut across her collarbone and chest, a long line of red bubbling to the surface. She kept her mouth shut, refusing to cry—her brown eyes shut tight. He slid his hand into her shirt and kissed her neck almost tenderly.

“He told us just where to push if we wanted you.” Martin tapped her collarbone with the knife tip as he spoke. “We had to kill your mother, of course.”

I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. I couldn’t think past Ally as I moved from option to option, desperate for a way to save her.

“Didn’t you think it strange that your mother had an accident in the middle of your investigation? We needed to separate you from your stronghold. With you gone, we could divide and conquer.” He gestured to Ally. “When she came running through that door, it was like a gift from heaven.”

“Who helped you?” He had to mean Gloria’s nemesis, if she ever had one. Whoever the hell this other player was, he knew that if I left, Ally’d jump on the chance to find Nessa. And he knew that Gloria would tell her where to look. And of course, I’d come running after Ally.

Gloria was right. He’d manipulated us like pawns.

“I can give her a matching scar if you want,” he said, ignoring my question. “A makeshift autopsy here and now?”

“Don’t you fucking touch her!”

He moved his hand further down and cupped her breast. “Just think, if you save her, I can have a bit of fun with her before I slit her throat. You think I need practice fucking, do you?”

“Don’t touch her!” I screamed again, more piercing reverberations ricocheted off the walls.

My vision changed.

At first I thought I was blacking out. It’s happened, you know, high levels of stress and people just faint. Yet I could still see, in a weird disconnected way. It wasn’t exactly the usual aurora borealis of color waves preceding a death, but more like what I’d seen in bed with Lane, only enhanced.