by C. T. Adams
“I’m not going to college.” He glared at me as he blurted out the words, defying me to argue. When I didn’t, he had the grace to look puzzled. “You’re not upset?”
I sighed. “Bryan, it’s your life. I’m just glad to have you back. Go to college. Don’t. Get a job. Go on welfare. It doesn’t matter. Don’t you understand? You’re alive … you’ve got the whole world to play with. Whatever you do, I’m still going to love you.”
He snorted and thrust out his jaw. “Joe was pissed.”
I shrugged because I wasn’t surprised. “Joe spends most of his life being pissed. He’ll get over it.”
Bryan gave a rueful laugh. “Yeah. I expect he will … eventually. But it really bothered him hearing that I took a job at a grocery store over by Brooks’s mom’s house.”
“You got a job?” I tossed the pillow aside and stood up. “That’s terrific. When did you do that?”
“The other night. You know how I told you I didn’t make it back in time to help you deal with Amanda because I was applying for a job? Well they called me back. I went for an interview and they gave me the job. I start Monday.”
“Congratulations!” I hurried across the room to give him a huge hug. “I’m so proud of you.”
He returned the hug with interest, “You really are, aren’t you? For a minimum wage job moving lettuce around.”
“Of course I am. It’s got to be hard, coming back like this. A lot has changed. But you’re diving in. I mean, you’re not asking for a thing. You’re just dealing with the reality. But you do realize that’s clear on the other side of town. You’re going to have quite a bus ride every day—especially in the winter.”
“That’s partly why I’m here. I was hoping you could give me Brooks’s telephone number. I was going to see if he’d sell me the Oldsmobile.”
“Ooo! Good idea.” I let go of him and started rummaging through the stack of papers that had accumulated at one end of the counter. I’d done most of the cleaning, but I’d run out of steam before I got to the paperwork. Of course, I’d left it for last because I hate it so much. But the card with Brooks’s cell phone number was here somewhere.
I finally unearthed the card and read off the number so that he could make the call.
He dialed and waited. But apparently there was no answer because he left a message explaining what he wanted and asking that Brooks call him back at my number to let him know one way or another.
Brian put the phone back in the cradle. Rising to his feet, he walked over to the kitchen sink and began rinsing out his stew bowl before putting it into the dishwasher. Keeping his back to me so that I wouldn’t see his face he asked, “Are you going to apologize to Joe?”
I lowered myself onto the nearest stool. The thought had been simmering in the back of my mind for a while, but was particularly strong since my insight a few moments before. But damn it, if I apologized he wouldn’t. He needed to. Not so much to me, as to Tom. My sweetie might hide his feelings well, but he’d been badly hurt by the things my older brother had said. Joe had been wrong. He’d been deliberately cruel, and I wanted him to be sorry about it and say so. The thing was, I was pretty sure he didn’t think he’d done anything worth apologizing for.
“If you’d apologize first, he’d follow. He really does realize that he was wrong about you.” Bryan grabbed his empty pop can from the counter and threw it into the trash with excessive force. “But you’re both so damned stubborn. Neither one of you wants to be the first to give in and admit you were wrong.”
I closed my eyes and counted to ten before I answered. I didn’t want to snarl at Bryan. I didn’t. But he was pushing me into a corner. “If Joe apologizes to Tom for the things he said, I’ll apologize to him for—” I tried to think of the right words for what I was sorry about.
“Um … maybe not being more careful? For making us worry?” Bryan prompted.
A part of me wanted to shout, I know what I’m doing. I can handle it. But I didn’t. Not really. Most of the really dangerous things that came up didn’t give me a lot of warning. Or if they did, I wasn’t bright enough to put together the pieces. I would’ve thought the psychic abilities would help, but they didn’t. Which nightmares were dreams, which ones premonitions? If there was a way to tell, I sure didn’t know what it was.
Bryan stepped forward. He put a hand on my shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. “I know it’s not fair to ask. You were always the first one to give in. But I know Joe won’t, and damn it, I want my family back. Is that so much to ask?” He was pleading with me; the look in his eyes so raw that it clawed at my heart. My throat tightened with emotion.
Put that way it shouldn’t be. It really shouldn’t.
“Please, Katie,” he whispered. “Do it for me?”
I took a deep shuddering breath. Slowly, painfully, I reached for the phone and hit the speed dial for Joe’s number.
26
The phone rang at 3:00 A.M., waking me from a sound sleep. I fumbled around for the portable extension next to the bed, grateful that I had taken the trouble to hunt it down and put it back on the charger.
I was in bed alone. Tomorrow afternoon Tom was due back from his shift at the firehouse.
“‘Lo?”
“Kate, what are you doing asleep?” Mary’s voice on the other end of the line sounded annoyed.
I blinked dumbly at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s 3:00 A.M.” My mind was thick with fog and definitely not firing on all cylinders.
“Which is why you need to wrap up the conversation you’re having with your brother and send him back here. He’s got to be at work at seven.”
“Huh? Bryan’s not here.” I was waking up now. The reality of what she was saying was breaking through the sleepinduced fog. “He left hours ago.”
“Not Bryan, you idiot. Joe.”
“Joe’s not speaking to me, Mary. This is the last place he’d be. I haven’t seen him since he kicked me out of the hospital.”
“What do you mean … he’s not there? I gave him your message when he got home at ten and he took off for your place. He said he wanted to talk to you in person.”
The words hit me like a blow. I jumped out of bed. Propping the telephone between my ear and shoulder I started grabbing whatever clothes were handy and pulling them on. I wound up in one of Tom’s dirty tee-shirts, gray sweatpants, and an ancient pair of Pumas with no socks. “He’s not here. Hasn’t been here. I haven’t heard a word from him. I swear, Mary.”
Closing my eyes, I sent my mind outward looking for him. All I found was an impenetrable barrier of will. My body was shaking from the effort I was putting my mind through. “Shit! I can’t find him, Mary. I should be able to find him, but I can’t.”
“Oh God, Kate! I have to hang up. I’m going to call the emergency rooms. I’ll call you back.”
The line went dead in my ear. I sank down on the edge of the bed, my knees weak from fear. I had to call Bryan. Had to let him know what was going on. I hit the number for Tom’s apartment on speed dial and listened as the phone rang and rang. On the fourth ring voice-mail picked up. I left a fairly hysterical message for my brother and hung up.
My stomach tightened into a knot of pure fear. My psychic senses were screaming that something had happened to Joe, but I didn’t know what, and didn’t have a clue what to do. I rummaged through the bedroom, gathering up my knives and strapping them on. Once I’d done that, though, I could only wait in terror for some word.
I sat praying as I waited for Mary’s call. The phone was in my lap. When it rang, I jumped a good foot, nearly spilling the phone onto the floor. I fumbled with it for a minute, then hit the button with a trembling finger. “Mary?”
“No. I’m not Mary.” It was a woman’s voice, cold and pitiless, with just the tiniest hint of amusement. There was silence in the background, followed by a man’s shriek of agony.
“Who is this?” I practically screamed the words into the receiver. “What do you want?”
/> “Really, Ms. Reilly, don’t you recognize my voice?” Her voice was a seductive purr, and I heard Joe’s hoarse shout “Don’t do it, Kate. Whatever she wants, don’t—”
I did recognize her voice. Samantha Greeley let out a roar of rage. I heard the thud of a blunt object impacting against skin, then silence. I swallowed the bile that had risen. I wouldn’t throw up. I wouldn’t.
“What do you want?” My voice was strangled with fear and rage.
“I asked you a question. Do you recognize my voice?”
My mouth didn’t want to work, but I managed to choke out, “Samantha Greeley.”
“Very good,” she purred.
“What do you want?” I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice normal in spite of the panic that was threatening to overwhelm me.
“I want to kill you, just like I did the others.” Her voice was all the more terrifying because it was completely bland, even pleasant. “Did you watch the news today?”
“No.” I concentrated on keeping her talking. If she was paying attention to me she wasn’t hurting Joe. But while I talked I was using my psychic abilities in a desperate attempt to find where she was.
“You remember Antonia, don’t you? She was such a pretty girl. They found her head yesterday. Digby is still missing, as is Emily. They may find their corpses eventually. Then again, perhaps not. I went to quite a bit of effort to make it difficult.”
Fuck! I thought Brooks said he’d checked on them!
“I’m really very annoyed about Mr. Brooks. If it hadn’t been for that damned dog—”
Oh God! I remembered the nightmare as she said the words. That was what was so important, and I’d taken a fucking sleeping pill! Bile rose into my throat until I could barely swallow it down again. She sighed. “Oh well, he’s in intensive care. There’s no way they’ll get him evacuated in time. The bomb will take him. But I digress. I have your brother. You slaughtered my siblings. Can you give me one reason not to kill yours?
A bomb? In the hospital? How many people was she willing to kill? “Because I’m the one you want. Not him. Killing Joe would be like shooting fish in a barrel.”
“Or spraying alcohol in an incubator?”
Her rage beat at me across the distance, hot enough that I expected the phone to melt in my hand or the skin to burn from my bones. But in her anger, she let her shield slip. I knew where she was calling from now: in the lab, at the hospital. Where it all began.
I ran blindly down the stairs, hoping the signal would hold. I needed to keep her busy, but I needed a car, and the cops, and—what the hell—the cavalry, if I could get it. I tore across the living room. I flipped back the locks on the front door with trembling hands and threw it open. I was already halfway down the hall when I heard it slam closed.
“What do you want me to say?”
“There’s nothing you can say. I’d make you beg, but while it would be fun to humiliate you, we both know it wouldn’t do any good.”
“Then why did you call?”
I opened the door to the staircase. Bryan wasn’t home but one of the downstairs tenants had to be, had to have a car. Dusty and Rob would be preferable, but Connie would do in a pinch. My mind was racing, trying to come up with a plan for rescue while at the same time I struggled to keep up my end of the conversation. I had to keep her occupied. There hadn’t been any fresh screams since we’d started talking. There were low moans, but that meant Joe was alive. So long as he was moaning, and there were no more screams, there was hope. I sent a wordless prayer upward that God would help me save my brother as I skidded to a stop at Rob and Dusty’s door.
“A good question. Maybe I just want you here to see him die.”
The connection went dead.
“FUCK!” I screamed it at the top of my lungs, throwing the telephone handset with all my strength against the wall of the hallway. It shattered, batteries and sharp pieces of colored plastic raining down on the floor.
I raised my fist to pound on the door, but it opened. Rob was there, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms.
“Kate, what’s wrong?”
Time, there was no time. I wanted to voice my rage and fear in a long, endless scream. Instead, I fought for control; fought to sound sane and reasonable as I told Rob what I needed. “I need car keys. She has Joe, she’s going to torture him to death. Call Tom, tell him there’s a bomb in the hospital. They need to evacuate it now. Then call Mary and have her meet me at St. E’s. I’ll fight her, but I need Mary to get Joe out and to the doctors. Damn it, Rob—GIVE ME THE GODDAMN KEYS!”
“Who is her, Kate? Who has Joe? Amanda’s dead, isn’t she? Tell me—for God’s sake! Tell me she’s dead!” He was babbling and deserved an answer, but I didn’t have time to give him one.
Dusty didn’t ask any questions. She just looked at me and, in that instant, she knew. “It’s Samantha Greeley, Rob. Go! I’ll call the police.” She grabbed the keys from a hook on the wall and threw them to a swearing Rob, who caught them in the air with his left hand. I saw her pick up the phone in the instant before Rob shoved me out of the way and slammed the door closed.
We were running down the hall, shards of plastic crunching beneath my shoes. Rob got to the door first, I caught it on the rebound and was through before it could close. Then we were in the parking garage. Rob tossed me the keys an instant before I felt the surge of power and heat that signaled he was ready to change. By the time I’d unlocked the door to Dusty’s Mustang he was in wolf form. When I flung the door open he leapt inside and between the seats.
I jumped inside, slamming the door. I had the car started and seatbelt on in an instant. With a squeal of tires that left patches of rubber on the concrete we were off.
I drove Dusty’s car as though the hounds of hell were after me. They may as well have been. Joe was being tortured. She was going to kill him. If the police came after me, so much the better. But they didn’t come after, they came before. The entire hospital was crawling with police, fire rescue, ambulances.
It was mass confusion, insanity. Blue and red flashing lights strobed the night. People in open-backed hospital gowns were being shuffled toward private vans and city buses, while gurneys were being wheeled into the back of ambulances parked in rows six deep. Dusty must have made more than one call. Attagirl.
News vans were parked across the street, but the crews were on the lawn, their lights shining bright on the perfectly made-up faces of excited reporters.
I pulled the car to the curb behind a fire truck. Rob and I climbed out. My goal was the back of the building. I still remembered Mac’s pass codes. If I could get to a back door I could get us inside.
I forced myself not to run, not to panic. I needed not to be noticed. It wasn’t to be. One of the doctors I knew from the ER shouted my name. One or two others turned to look.
I ran, around the corner of the building. Tom and a pair of cops were arguing by the back door. He saw Rob and me coming, and his eyes went wide. The cops turned. The first one paled and grabbed for his gun. Before he could draw, Tom slugged him, sending him sprawling to the ground. The second cop turned, his hand just starting to raise the weapon when Rob leaped, and he was down as well. I didn’t stop to watch what happened next. I was through the door and inside the hospital.
It wasn’t until I was around the bend and halfway up the next flight of stairs that I stopped. Joe had been screaming, really screaming. He couldn’t be in the lab. Too many people would have heard him. But if not there … where? I needed to think, but panic was making it hard. I heard someone come through the door below me. “Do you know where she was headed?” Mary’s voice echoed through the stairwell. She sounded preternaturally calm, not hysterical at all.
“Mary? I’m up here. I just thought of something.”
I heard her footsteps on the concrete stairs, along with the click of claws.
“What?”
“She doesn’t have Joe in the lab. She couldn’t. He was screaming too loud. She ha
s to have him somewhere soundproof. But I don’t know where it would be. Can the three of you search the hospital, track him by scent?”
She appeared just below me. She looked grim in black jeans and a blood-red scooped neck tee. Her eyes blazed an inhuman gold, and I could feel the power she held barely in check.
“Easily.”
“Do it.”
“And may I ask what you’ll be doing?” I was pretty sure she didn’t trust me not to make it worse. I couldn’t really argue, but I had an idea that just might work.
“Springing a trap.”
She gave me a long look, and raised her hand in salute. “Happy hunting.”
“Just save my brother.” She gave a sharp nod and was off, with Rob at her heels. I didn’t stay to watch them go. I had an appointment to keep. I did glance over at the pony-sized wolf beside me. Tom was with me. I wasn’t surprised. I wasn’t sorry. In fact, I couldn’t think of anyone I’d have wanted with me more.
We were just coming out of the stairwell into the hall near the lab when the building was rocked by an explosion that rattled the glass in the walls and sent papers flying from the desk at the nurse’s station. The overhead lights flickered and died. A moment later I heard the generator kick in and there was emergency power. That lasted as long as it took us to get to the far end of the hall.
The second explosion was either closer or bigger. It knocked me off my feet as the building seemed to shift beneath me. The sound of it hit my ears like a blow, and for a few moments it wasn’t possible for me to hear properly.
The lights in the hall were out except for the occasional brilliant flash of the battery-operated alarm lights. It gave everything an odd, strobe effect. I didn’t dare look at it too closely, either, because the searing light would ruin my night vision.
The acrid stench of smoke was faint, but growing stronger. I tasted concrete dust on my tongue. Tom moved in front of me. In wolf form he could see in the near pitch dark, and his training in fire rescue could only help keep us from getting lost.