Denise went on. “I had to reopen the temporary patch we’d put in place to clean the wound properly, so he lost a bit more blood, but he’s a big guy and I think he can handle it just fine. I jump-started the healing process, and with a little of Gaia’s grace and a few more healing treatments, I think he’ll be back on his feet in no time.”
She was tired. I could hear it in her voice; the working must have taken more out of her than she wanted to admit. I suggested she get some rest, and to my surprise she didn’t argue at all, just wandered upstairs looking for a bedroom where she could crash.
Dmitri improved slowly but surely. While we waited, we had plenty of time to keep an eye on the news and get an understanding of just how much trouble we were actually in.
A lot, as it turned out.
I knew that I was already wanted for the murder of three people. Now they had added escaping from custody and suspicion of killing a cop to the list. My picture was all over the news, with warnings that I was likely armed and dangerous. They made no mention of my blindness, which I took to be odd until Denise suggested that warnings about a blind killer just wouldn’t be taken seriously by the general public.
Denise was not mentioned in any of the broadcasts, nor was Dmitri. The former I expected, but not the latter. I thought they would have identified him from the surveillance cameras at One Schroeder Plaza as the accomplice who’d helped me break out of jail but maybe we got lucky. Then again, maybe they had identified him and they were just keeping that information to themselves for the time being.
Just thinking about it gave me a headache.
With Stanton dead, the chances of clearing my name looked pretty slim. He was the only one who knew that I’d been invited to the crime scenes at his request. He was the only one who had seen the fetch and knew what it was capable of. Just the videotape of me slashing that poor man’s throat would be enough to convince a jury to send me to the chair, never mind my subsequent jail break and mad rush through the city.
I had to get away. Not just from the city, maybe even from the whole state. And with only a few lingering questions left to answer about Elizabeth’s disappearance, I could finally do so without feeling as if I was abandoning her.
Denise and I were sitting in the kitchen, lingering over lunch, when I told her what I intended to do.
“Take me with you,” she said, her gaze never leaving my own.
“What?”
“Take me with you. You’re going to need someone to teach you, to help you channel your talent and learn to use it properly. Who better than me?”
She laughed, a sign of nervousness I’d never seen in her before, and then added, “Besides, it won’t be long before the cops tie all of us together. I’d have to leave on my own at that point anyway.”
Much to her surprise, I agreed. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen between us, but I couldn’t think of anyone else better suited to help me get back to normal, whatever that was these days. If I’d learned anything recently, it was that I no longer wanted to be alone. I needed someone like Denise to keep me grounded. The fact that I genuinely enjoyed her company made the decision an easy one to make.
“Looks like there will be three of us then,” said a voice from the doorway, and we turned to find Dmitri standing there, listening in. He joined us at the table and we got down to some serious planning.
With our decision to leave made, there was just one last thing I had to do.
I knew it was a risk, a huge risk in fact, but I had no choice. I couldn’t leave without speaking to Anne one last time. I wouldn’t have felt right otherwise. Regardless of what had happened between us since that terrible day, she had a right to know. Elizabeth was her daughter, too.
I chose my moment carefully, waiting until after the next session of healing magick, when both Dmitri and Denise were sleeping off the exhausting effects of their efforts, and then scribbled out a note to tell them where I’d gone. I also let them know that if I wasn’t back in a few hours they should hit the road without me.
I slipped out the door and set off for the bus stop, a few blocks down the street. A stiff wind was blowing, making the already cold day seem that much colder, and I was thankful for the hooded sweatshirt I’d decided to wear under my leather coat. Besides protecting my ears from the biting wind, the hood also served to keep my features in shadow and cut down on the chance of someone recognizing me, a real concern. My face had been plastered all over the television since the discovery of Stanton’s body and, unfortunately, there wasn’t much I could do to change it. I’d dyed my hair surfer blond and grown a short goatee to break up the lines of my face, but that was the extent of the changes that I could manage. It would do for now, but I knew it wouldn’t fool anyone who got a good long look.
I was lucky and caught a bus a few minutes after I arrived. Taking a seat to myself, I kept my head down and pretended to be asleep. Twenty minutes later, I exited the bus at the station in Braintree, made the quick walk to the commuter-rail station, and headed into the city proper.
Coming up on the lunch hour as we were, the commuter train wasn’t very full and my anxiety about being seen dropped a few notches. Still, I kept my hood up and my face turned toward the window, but I didn’t think any of the other passengers were paying too much attention to me, for which I was thankful. By the time I got off at Government Center, I was feeling pretty good about my mission.
While I hadn’t kept in contact, I had continued to follow Anne’s career and knew that she had risen to senior partner in the firm where she was employed. I also knew that she liked to grab a quick bite to eat alone at a nearby cafe. I shanghaied the sight of a local haunt and sat down on a bench nearby to wait for her.
Just as she was passing by me, I stood up and said quietly, “Hello, Anne.”
She turned in my direction, probably expecting to see a colleague or a former client, and I watched her expression change from one of cheerful welcome to wariness as she sought to figure out who I was.
I reached up and pulled back my hood, forcing the smile to stay on my face. The next few seconds were critical.
“It’s me, Anne. Jeremiah.”
“Jeremiah?”
She took a step forward, and then went stiff when her brain caught up with her heart. From the fear in her eyes I knew that she had seen the news; hell, as my ex-wife she probably had already been questioned by the police, so I wasn’t surprised by her reaction.
I kept my hands out in plain sight and tried to look as nonthreatening as possible. “I just need a second, that’s all. Just long enough to say good-bye.”
“Good-bye?”
For a woman who made her living arguing in court, she sure seemed at a loss for words. Not that I blamed her. I’m sure seeing me after all these years was a bit of a shock, especially knowing that I was wanted by the police on suspicion of multiple murders. I knew that I had to talk quickly before her good sense reasserted itself.
“I found her, Anne. After all these years I found her.”
Whatever she had expected me to say, that apparently wasn’t it. Her breath caught in her throat and she took another step forward, her hand unconsciously snatching at the sleeve of my coat.
“Elizabeth?” she whispered.
I nodded, the tears already forming in my eyes.
“Is she … ?” Even after all this time she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
Shaking my head, I answered the question she had left unfinished. “No,” I said gently. “She left us a few years ago. But at least now we know that she’s no longer suffering.”
She stumbled then and would have collapsed right there on the sidewalk if I hadn’t caught her in my arms. I eased her over to the bench that I’d sat on while I had waited for her, and sat us down together. I guess hearing it said aloud by the one person you knew would never give up unless absolutely certain was more than she could handle. Like a dam that had burst wide open, she let it all out, all the years of wondering and waiting, all
the pain and agony that such a thing can cause. Despite the fact that other people were looking at us closely as they walked past, increasing my chances of being seen and recognized, I just held her tight and let her cry until she was done.
That seemed to take forever, but was probably only a few minutes. The fact that my heart ached to hear her anguish told me that I wasn’t as over us as I thought I was, but at this point that was just water under the bridge.
I waited until she had regained a bit of control and then said softly, “I’ve got to go, Anne. People are looking for me. I just didn’t want to leave without you knowing that Beth was all right. No one can hurt her anymore, I promise you.”
She nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes with the heels of her hands, a gesture I hadn’t seen in years. I felt a sharp yank on the strings of my heart and knew I had to get out of there before I got her involved in this whole mess.
As I rose to leave, she grabbed my hand and looked up at me.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for never giving up. And thank you for telling me. Take care of yourself. If I can help with …”
She left the rest unfinished. What could she say really?
I nodded in reply, unable to speak. Then, without another word, I turned and made my way down the street.
I could feel her eyes upon me, but I didn’t look back.
It was time to put the past behind me.
Time to start living again.
TOR BOOKS BY JOSEPH NASSISE
THE JEREMIAH HUNT CHRONICLE
Book 1: Eyes to See
Book 2: King of the Dead (forthcoming)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JOSEPH NASSISE is the author of more than a dozen novels, including the internationally bestselling Templar Chronicles. He is the former president of the Horror Writers Association, a two-time Bram Stoker Award and International Horror Guild Award nominee, and a life and creativity coach who likes working with people to get them to realize their full potential in life.
Born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts, he attended Fordham University. He lives with his wife and children in Phoenix, Arizona. Find out more at josephnassise.com.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
EYES TO SEE
Copyright © 2011 by Joseph Nassise
All rights reserved.
Edited by James Frenkel
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
eISBN 9781429985451
First eBook Edition : August 2011
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Nassise, Joseph.
The Jeremiah Hunt chronicle / Joseph Nassise.—1st ed.
p. cm.
“A Tom Doherty Associates book.”
1. Demons—Fiction I. Title.
PS3614.A785J47 2011
813’.6—dc22
2011021572
First Edition: October 2011
Eyes to See Page 28