Struck

by Jennifer Bosworth

  My stomach shrank. I knew where this was going. “He brainwashed you.”

  “He’d been doing it all along, in subtle ways, but I hadn’t realized it until then.”

  “And the suggestions only work if a part of you wants to comply.”

  He nodded again. “A part of me did. I wanted to be a good son. I didn’t want to undermine him. So every few days he would give me a blessing, and I behaved the way he wanted me to.”

  “How did you break the cycle?” I asked.

  Jeremy leaned his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands to massage his temples. “From the beginning, he told me I should always come to him after I’d had a ‘revelation,’ and tell him everything in precise detail, so that’s what I did. He’d started his show by this time, but The Hour of Light didn’t take off until he began using my revelations. That was fine. We were doing something good. Religion was the perfect tool to mask what was really going on, and to get people to listen. And our predictions saved thousands of lives.”

  He swallowed hard and reached to adjust his glasses again. But the glasses, his disguise, weren’t there. It was just him now.

  He looked at me with all the sadness and anger one person could contain without losing his mind.

  “I had a vision of the Puente Hills Quake. I saw a storm appear in the sky above downtown, and lightning struck the ground, and then everything began to shake and the … and the towers, all but one, fell.”

  My breath slowed. I nodded.

  “I saw it a week before the quake hit.”

  36

  IT TOOK ME a moment to find my voice. “But Prophet didn’t warn about the quake until—”

  “Until it was too late.” Jeremy’s whole body was clenched, shaking with rage like he was experiencing his own private earthquake. “As soon as I woke from the vision, I went to Father to tell him what I’d seen. I demanded he inform the mayor first, before he announced it on The Hour of Light, so the city could begin evacuation procedures. He agreed to make the call, but before he did anything, he wanted to give me a blessing. I was upset, and he was afraid I might do something rash, go running through the streets, shouting at people to get out of the city.” Jeremy’s trembling stilled suddenly. “Next thing I knew, I was waking up and the earthquake was over. The city was in ruins and so many people … so many were dead. It was exactly what I’d seen. What I was supposed to prevent.”

  “Jeremy …” I couldn’t think of anything to say. There was nothing to say.

  “When I found out what my father had done, I lost it. My brothers held me down while Father explained that it wasn’t up to him, God had commanded he say nothing about the earthquake until right before it was to take place. He said God wanted the people of Los Angeles to be humbled. But I knew he had acted of his own will, even if he wouldn’t admit it. That was the end for me. Whatever hold he had on me was broken. There was no longer any part of me that could be controlled by him.

  “I pretended to forgive him. I didn’t know what else to do. If I spoke out against him … I knew I’d be putting myself in danger. I’ve seen him angry. I know he’s not above hurting the people who cross him. There was this woman who joined the Church of Light after the quake. I liked her, but there was definitely something off about her. Even though she wore Followers’ white, she never looked like a Follower, not in her eyes, anyway. She was always hanging around Father, praising him, flirting with him. Then, one day, she disappeared. When I asked Father what happened to her, he smiled. He never answered the question.” Jeremy shook his head. “I wish I could remember the woman’s name.”

  “Irene,” I said quietly. “She was a Seeker.”

  “Was.” Jeremy covered his eyes.

  “Tell me the rest,” I said.

  Jeremy nodded, taking a moment to pull his thoughts together. “Like I told you before, I’ve always had visions of you. But after the quake, their frequency increased. There was one day when I couldn’t get out of bed, the visions were coming so fast. I stopped seeing anything else. Just you. You over and over again.”

  “And the Tower,” I said.

  “That, but I saw other things, too. Flashes of Skyline and your house, your mom and brother. The visions led me to you, and I told you I always have the visions for a reason.”

  “So you can change things.”

  “Father was only able to read fragments of my thoughts, enough to know I was getting close to you. He told me to bring you to him, said he needed you to create the God storm. I … I thought if I …”

  “Got rid of me?” I offered, trying for a lighthearted tone that only made Jeremy wince.

  “Yes,” he said. “But once I actually saw you, alive, right in front of me, not just an image in some vision … I couldn’t go through with what I had planned. But I couldn’t walk away either. I had to keep you safe. Keep you away from the Seekers, away from the Tower, and especially away from my father. The storm that appeared on the day of the quake was his inspiration.”

  “To create his own storm, and his own earthquake?” I said, sounding dubious. “Do you think it’s really possible?”

  “A lot of the things he does are impossible, but he does them anyway. He can’t accomplish it alone, though. He needs the Apostles, and the Followers, especially those who have the Light in them and have pledged their loyalty to him. And he needs you most of all. You’re the one he’s counting on to give lightning to his storm. And the lightning will break the sixth seal.”

  “But I thought the seals were just omens,” I said. “Not actual seals. That’s what the Seekers told me.”

  “The sixth is different. It’s the Puente Hills Fault, and if it produces a massive enough quake, it will begin a domino effect that will be felt around the world. The Puente Hills Fault will set off the San Andreas Fault, which will set off another fault and another. And earthquakes won’t be the only effect. Volcanoes and calderas will erupt, and tsunamis will wipe out whole cities. Destruction will lead to more destruction. That, according to Father, is God’s plan to cleanse the earth.”

  Jeremy stopped talking then, and we sat quietly for a moment before he said, “I’ll understand if you hate me.”

  I stared at him. “Why would I hate you?”

  His mouth twisted down at the corners. “So many dead,” he said. “And your mother was almost one of them.”

  “It wasn’t your fault! If you had seen a vision of Prophet putting you to sleep so you’d be out of the way, you wouldn’t have told him about the quake. But you didn’t have that vision. Maybe there are some things you can’t change no matter how much you want to.”

  Jeremy’s teeth clamped together. He was shaking again. “I shouldn’t have needed a vision. I knew who my father was, but I didn’t want to admit what he was.”

  “You wanted to believe he was better than that. You can’t take responsibility for what Prophet did. He manipulated you. He used you. He did that. You didn’t ask to have these visions any more than I asked to be a … whatever I am. And we can still change things, right? It’s not too late.”

  He nodded slowly, and a weight lifted inside me.

  “The Seekers will come for you,” Jeremy said. “Last night’s revival was televised. They’ll know what’s happened.”

  They’ll try to use you …

  “Are you sure?” I asked Jeremy. “I made it pretty clear I wanted nothing to do with the Seekers.”

  He nodded, but there was something hidden in his eyes. “I’ve seen it. Father is holding a final revival at sunset for every Follower; to gather them on the beach where he claims they’ll be safe from the earthquake he thinks is coming. But without you, he won’t be able to create a strong enough electrical storm to bring on the quake. The Seekers will come for you at the revival. Unless something changes,” he added, looking distant.

  “Why don’t they come now?” I asked. “Wouldn’t that be easier?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “I doubt they know where you are. Prophet owns so ma
ny properties, under so many different names. Their minds aren’t the only thing his Followers hand over to him. Many give up everything, including the deeds to their homes and whatever savings they have.”

  “What about my mom?” I asked. “What about you? The Seekers will rescue all of us, right?”

  He held up his hands. “I only see you, but that doesn’t mean your mom and I won’t escape with you. The only thing I know for sure is that the Seekers will come for you tonight.” He forced a smile that didn’t reach his haunted eyes. I thought of the cards Madam Lupescu had dealt me. My possible futures. The Lovers or the Tower. Madam Lupescu said I had to make a choice, and I had, and I was sticking to it.

  The Lovers.

  I leaned toward him until I could feel his heat against mine. Then I opened my mouth against his and kissed him so deeply I felt I had fallen into a fire that burned without pain. Jeremy kept his hands at his sides, but I still felt his light trying to steal my mind away. I refused it, focusing on the feel of Jeremy. The aliveness of his skin. His lips.

  We kissed until we forgot to breathe, and when we finally broke apart, we were both panting. I noticed several buttons of Jeremy’s shirt had come open—did I do that?—and I could see the jagged red mark etched on his skin, as though painted by an unsteady hand.

  The branch of a lightning scar.

  Jeremy saw the way my eyes fixated on the scar. “Do you want to see it?” he asked. I felt his breath on my face, hot enough to burn up the oxygen I was trying to load up on.

  My mouth opened, but I was still working to catch my breath, so I only nodded. His fingers went to the buttons and undid three more and parted his shirt. The lightning scar was like some strange, alien rose. I touched it with my gloved fingers.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said, and I meant it. On him, it was beautiful. On him, everything was beautiful.

  Jeremy indicated my gloves. “You can take those off now, you know. You don’t have to hide from me.”

  Without thinking, I pulled my hand away. “No,” I said, and Jeremy’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I’m not ready yet.”

  “It’s all right,” he said, but he sounded wounded. He’d let me see his lightning scar, and now I was hiding mine from him. “I should leave now, before the Apostles come looking for me. I’ve already stayed too long.”

  He stood, fastening the buttons on his shirt. He turned toward the door.

  I was on my feet then, peeling off my gloves and dropping them to the floor. “Jeremy,” I said, and when he turned back to face me I was holding my hands out to him, veins of red blazing across my palms, jagged life lines and love lines.

  He came back to me, and looked at my hands. “They’re lovely,” he said. I had never heard a guy my age say the word “lovely” like that.

  I shook my head, wondering what Jeremy would think if he saw my whole body veined in red, and then I stopped thinking as Jeremy’s arms wound around me and he pulled me to him again and his lips burned against mine.

  He broke the kiss before another vision could blast through my consciousness.

  I heard footsteps on the stairs leading up to the fourth floor. My whole body tensed, my spine going rigid.

  Jeremy opened the door to find Iris on the other side, reaching for the doorknob. She eyed Jeremy suspiciously.

  “Brother Jeremiah,” she said, and then looked past him to where I stood.

  I offered her my most sisterly smile. “Hello, Sister Iris,” I said, adopting the sort of easy tone and slightly blank look I’d been walking around with all morning.

  “Sister Mia,” she said. Her gaze narrowed slightly before turning back to Jeremy. “Some of us are going out to minister to the Displaced on the beach. Will you join us, Brother? It’s been a while since you graced us with your presence.” She spoke pointedly, accusing without needing to, but Jeremy acted as though she were being nothing but civil.

  “Of course,” he said, and stepped out into the hall.

  “What about me?” I asked, thinking that if Jeremy and Mom and I went out onto the beach, we might be able to make a run for it. We wouldn’t have to wait for the Seekers to come to our rescue. But it would be difficult to drag Mom away. She would put up a fight, slow us down.

  But Iris said to me, “Father wants to speak with you in his study.” She smiled, and added, “Privately.”

  37

  HE’LL KNOW. THAT was the only thought in my head as I made my way to Prophet’s study. Prophet would know I wasn’t brainwashed anymore, and then he’d … what would he do? He couldn’t kill me. He needed me. But my mom … he didn’t need her.

  I thought of what Mom had said to me repeatedly. He wants me with him all the time.

  I was beginning to understand why Prophet brought her here. It had nothing to do with love, and everything to do with controlling me. She was a fail-safe. Even if my psychic brainwashing failed, he knew I wouldn’t leave her, and if worse came to worst he could use her as a human shield.

  I would just have to hope that worse wasn’t about to get any worse.

  I knocked on Prophet’s study door and waited for him to call me inside. Instead, the door opened and Mom stood there, luminous in a long white satin dress with lace sleeves and lace at the bodice, and pearls and—

  Oh, God.

  It was a wedding dress.

  “What do you think?” Mom asked, which led me to believe she misread the horror in my eyes as surprise.

  “Mom, it’s … where did it come from?” I asked.

  “Rance sent out for it this morning.” Her smile dimmed a little. “You don’t like it?”

  I blanked out my eyes and made my voice calm and accepting. “I do,” I said, fighting not to cringe. “It’s very modest. And classic. Classy. All of the above.” Shut up!

  Mom beamed and waved me inside Prophet’s study. I gazed around. It wasn’t what I’d expected, a shrine to Prophet’s Old Testament God. It was plain. There were bookshelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling, but they contained no books. The only piece of furniture in the office was a mahogany desk with a large, leather-bound copy of the Bible open on its surface. I could see the letters, and they definitely weren’t Braille. Prophet must have the passages he was interested in committed to memory.

  Prophet sat in a massive leather chair behind the desk, turned away from us, facing the window that looked out on the beach and the ocean.

  On the wall behind the desk was a small, empty display case, but if I had to guess what it was supposed to hold, a certain shiny object with a dangerous pointy end came to mind. The knife Jeremy had brought to my room a few nights back, that I’d seen Prophet use to slice open Jeremy’s neck in a vision. Where was the knife now? I wondered.

  Mom came around the desk to stand by Prophet, a good and loyal pet. He swiveled his chair to face me. “Mia,” he said in greeting. Was it my imagination, or was there something different about the way he said my name now? His voice was cooler, more removed, as though—

  No. Don’t think about it. Be the other Mia. The one he wants you to be.

  “Happy news,” Prophet said. “Your mother and I have decided to wed.”

  “Wow,” I said, forcing my voice to stay light, not to betray any of the panic that threatened to take hold inside me. “You two only met last night.”

  Was it me, or did Mom’s smile seem stiff? “It’s a little sudden, but—”

  “Your mother and I feel like we’ve been together for years,” Prophet cut in. “I would say it was love at first sight, but, well …”

  He smiled at his joke. So did Mom. I hoisted the corners of my mouth as high as I could make them go, but they resisted. “So … when’s the big day?”

  “Tonight,” the Prophet said, “at the revival.”

  My stomach churned. “Tonight? Not … you know … after the storm, when things have calmed down a bit?”

  “God wishes our union to take place tonight. He was very clear about that.”

  “Great,” I said. “W
onderful.”

  I looked at Mom, at her eyes, searching them for some sign that a part of her knew this was wrong.

  “Something troubling you, Mia?” Prophet asked, as though he could see the truth on my face. Or read the thoughts I was doing a terrible job of keeping in check. But if he tried to read me, I would know it, wouldn’t I? I’d feel that pressure in my mind, and the buzzing, like a fly trapped inside my skull. I kept waiting for the buzzing to start, but so far I remained the sole entity occupying my head.

  “Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the wedding?” I asked, and then wanted to slap my forehead. Prophet blinked his milky eyes at me slowly as a reminder.

  “We don’t believe in luck, good or bad,” Prophet said. “There is only God’s will and God’s plan, and this is all part of that plan.”

  “Mia, I want you to be my maid of honor,” Mom said. There was a dress bag hanging from one of the empty bookshelves. Mom removed it and carried it to me. “Rance ordered this especially for you and had it rushed over.”

  She laid the bag in my arms. It was heavy, like the dress was made of lead or something. “Thank you,” I said, the words barely making it past my teeth.

  “Thank you, Father,” Prophet corrected.

  I met his eyes, and behind the thick cataracts I could see the black of his pupils muted to gray, and I got the telltale-heart urge to rip that muscle out of his chest, not to bury it beneath the floorboards, but to unleash the fire in my own heart and burn it black.

  You could do it, a voice spoke inside me. You could kill him now. Use the fire inside, like you did on the bridge. Strike Prophet down and get it over with.

  But Mom was standing next to him again, and there was no guarantee I could take Prophet down without hitting Mom, too. It wasn’t like I’d been practicing. Prophet was right. I had no control over my Spark or my Light or whatever it was.