by Wendi Wilson
“That’s right. This is a safe space,” she says. “But, I am obligated to report it if I feel you’re a danger to yourself or others. We went over this during our first session.”
I bob my head, the frenetic motion making my curls bounce around. I can tell her. I can tell her, and she can’t tell anyone, so she’ll be okay. She’ll get her girls home, and they’ll be okay.
I take a few deep breaths to get my chaotic and repetitive thoughts under control before I begin to speak. I need the right words. She has to understand.
She has to believe me.
“President Worth is a scumbag,” I say.
She jerks her head back in surprise, a frown turning her lips down. I probably should have eased into that.
“Sure, he’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but no president is,” she responds carefully.
“No, you don’t understand. Listen,” I say, “I left out a big chunk of the story I told you earlier, and it all has to do with him.”
She nods and places the tip of her pencil against pad she’s been taking notes on. The lead scratches against paper as I begin speaking.
“Brother Earl went to Washington to see the president,” I say. “He wanted Worth to pass a law that would make it legal to arrest, imprison, and execute all Alts.”
I hear her quiet gasp as the scratching sound of the pencil stops, then starts back up again. I have her attention.
“President Worth refused.”
“Of course, he did. That would be genocide.”
“Trust me, it’s wasn’t ethics or compassion that made him laugh Earl right out of his office. Let me backtrack. I told you about Savanna, how Earl messed with her genetics?”
“Yes.”
“Well, specifically, she can persuade multiple people at once, without eye contact,” I explain, and she looks at me with wide eyes. “Dr. Levinson, she can also persuade other Alts.”
“What?” she exclaims, and it’s the first time I’ve heard her speak above her normal quiet, soothing tone.
“It’s true. Brother Earl kidnapped her parents and used them as leverage to make her go to D.C. with him. He wanted her to persuade the president to take a meeting with him and agree to his plans to rid the world of all Alts.”
“What?” she repeats, this time even louder.
“It gets worse,” I say, wringing my hands in my lap. “They went to this big fundraiser party and the president sent his personal assistant to get Savanna and have her meet him his hotel room. Brother Earl made her go. It was the perfect opportunity for her to persuade Worth into taking the meeting with him. So, she went.”
“What happened?” she asks, her voice back to its normal tone, but laced with dread.
“Savanna was wearing contacts, so the president had no idea she’s an Alt. He came on to her, and when she tried to resist he had one of his personal guards take care of it. Dr. Levinson,” I stress her name, “his guard was an Alt. She tried to use persuasion on Savanna. She told her to let the president do whatever he wanted to her, to enjoy it, and to forget all about it afterward.”
The color drains from her face, making her freckles stand out in dark contrast. She loses all her composure, gasping for air and fixing her wide blue eyes on my face like she’s trying to read the truth there.
“Oh, my God,” she breathes. “Is this true?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice firm. “It happened, but that’s not something I’m worried about, now.”
She lowers her chin a notch, confused. “You’re not?”
I shake my head and say, “No, I’m not. It was obvious to Savanna that she wasn’t his first victim, that he’d been using his Alts to help him rape young girls. Girls that, afterward, never knew it happened. She persuaded the security team to leave, then persuaded the president to never do it again. Then she slapped the shit out of him.”
I fall silent, letting her absorb all that information. She stares down at the notepad in her hands, her harsh breaths the only sound in the room.
“Dr. Levinson,” I say, and her eyes pop up to meet mine. “I only told you all this to make you understand the kind of man he is.”
“A scumbag,” she mutters, repeating my earlier words.
I nod. “While Savanna was at the party, the boys and I rescued her parents from the house where they were being kept. Jimmy O’Connor was one of the people guarding them, and I…I pretended to…want him, to distract him so the others could get inside. I got him naked by the time the others busted in, and I humiliated him. That’s why he attacked me so brutally last week.”
The last of my words fizzle into a whisper. A ball of shame grows in my chest, which I rub with the heel of my hand.
“No, Lizzie,” she says in a soothing voice. “What happened to you was not your fault. Jimmy O’Connor makes his own choices, and he chose to abuse you.”
“You’re right,” I say, because I’m supposed to, though I don’t really believe it. “Anyway, Brother Earl was livid when he realized that not only did Savanna not persuade the president to agree to his plans, we’d also stolen his leverage from him. So, my parents gave him my sister.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“My mom and dad let him take my sister hostage to use against me. Brother Earl knew Savanna and the guys would help me. He said he would let Grace go if Savanna met him at the White House for a presidential press conference.”
“That’s…crazy.”
She snaps her mouth shut so fast her teeth clack together. I smile, a little. Therapists aren’t supposed to say words like crazy, especially to their patients.
“I’ll spare you all the details, but everything ended up okay. I got my sister back and she’s living with Savanna’s parents. The reason I told you all this is because, while we were at that press conference, we made a discovery. President Worth’s so-called youth outreach program is a farce. He’s building an army,” I say, stressing the word. “An army of Alts.”
The timer on her phone dings. My hour is up, but she waves it off. I tell her about the Alts, how he has them persuade his peers and the press to agree with everything he says. How he recruits them, ruining their lives so he can be their savior and make them loyal.
“But nothing bad has happened to us,” she says.
“He’s changed his M.O.,” I say. “He’s made the applications public, searching applicants for Alts he didn’t know existed. Were your daughters homeschooled, by chance?”
She nods. “Until tenth grade. They wanted the whole high school experience, so I enrolled them in private school for their last three years.”
“So, there was no public record of them being Alts. When they applied, he discovered their existence and brought them into the fold.”
“What do I do?” she asks.
“Most importantly, you can’t tell anyone what I’ve told you. Especially not Harlow and Evie. If he finds out you know…”
I let the words trail off, and she nods in understanding.
“Get them home. Do whatever you need to do. Fake an emergency. Tell them you’re sick. Anything to get them away from him.”
“But, what about the others?” she asks.
“Don’t worry. We have a plan.”
23
I leave her office and head straight for the pharmacy to fill the prescription she wrote for me. She said the anti-anxiety medication should help and if I start to get worse, or experience any depression or suicidal thoughts, I should call her right away.
Dropping the bottle of pills into my purse, I pull my phone out and tap the button to call Grace as I walk out of the pharmacy and into the parking lot.
“Hi, Lizzie,” she answers, stressing my name to let me know she’s annoyed with me in that sassy, thirteen-year-old way.
“Hi, Gracie,” I chirp out. “How are you?”
“I’m so bored!” she complains. “When can I go back to school?”
“You want to go to school? Since when?” I joke, trying to keep things light.
“It’s better than being stuck in the house all day, every day,” she huffs.
“Grace, I explained this to you.”
“I know, I know. It’s not safe. Blah. Blah. Blah.”
“Don’t you remember?” I ask, my tone turning stern. “Remember when Brother Earl took you? How scared you were?”
“Yes,” she mumbles.
“Brother Jimmy is one hundred times worse than Brother Earl.”
“You keep saying that, but you won’t tell me why. He always seemed nice at church.”
“So did Brother Earl,” I shoot back.
“Lizzzzzie,” she whines.
I take a deep breath, holding it for a three count while I slip into my car, locking myself in and dropping the keys into my lap. As I let out the breath, I deflate. I have to tell her the truth. I know my sister. If I don’t give her a real, hardcore reason to stay inside the James’s house where it’s safe, she’s going to sneak out to go see her friends.
“Okay, Grace, I’ll tell you all of it.”
And I do. I tell her about his attack, not glossing over the sexual parts. She needs to know. I describe how he punched me and I hit my head on the floor, getting a concussion. I tell her what he said about taking her, and how he hinted at rape.
She’s quiet for several moments, then sounds of her crying come through the speaker of my phone.
“Don’t cry, Gracie,” I croon.
“Are you okay, Lizzie?” she asks.
My little sister has always been wise beyond her years, and I know she’s asking about my mental health, not my concussion.
“I’m going to be,” I promise, “and so are you. Can you please stay inside and listen to Angela and Roman?”
“I will,” she swears, her voice solemn.
“Thanks, Gracie. It’ll all be over soon, then things will go back to normal.”
I end the call and stare at my steering wheel. I have to protect Grace. She is my blood, the only real family I have left.
Wait. That’s not true. Silas and Slade, Savanna, the Pattons—they’re my family, too. A bitter laugh flies from my mouth. They’re definitely more of a family than my parents ever were. No wonder I’m such a—
A bang on my window startles me from my thoughts and I scream, the sound echoing around me in the car. I try to crank the engine, but the keys aren’t in the ignition. Where are the keys? Why can’t I find the keys?
I look out my window and my panic stutters to a stop. There’s a young woman standing there, a toddler on her hip, holding her free hand up in surrender. A large pack of diapers rests on the ground by her feet. I breathe in and out a few times before grabbing the keys from my lap, where I’ve just remembered I dropped them, and turn on the car so I can roll down the window before turning it back off.
As soon as I do, the lady starts to talk. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says, her face filled with regret.
“It’s okay,” I say, my breath still shaky. “I’m just a little jumpy right now. Can I help you with something?”
“Here,” she says, holding out a sealed envelope. “I know this is weird, but I was buying diapers in the pharmacy and the guy behind me offered to pay for my bill and give me fifty bucks cash if I’d deliver this to you.”
I look at the envelope in her hand without moving. That thing might as well be a snake instead of a harmless piece of folded paper.
“Seriously,” she says, taking a step forward to push the envelope through the open gap of the window. “I’m sorry I scared you. Here.”
She releases her grip on her delivery and it falls into my lap. With one last apologetic look, she turns, grabs her diapers and heads across the lot. I watch her as she puts the child and her purchase into the backseat of a white SUV, then climbs into the driver’s seat. I can’t see anyone else in the car as it pulls from the lot and heads down the street.
I look down and, with a deep breath, grab the envelope from my lap and rip it open. A single sheet of paper is folded up inside, and I pull it out, letting the torn envelop flutter to floorboard. Just a few words are printed in big block letters across the middle of the page.
Tick tock, Lizzie. Give me what I want or we both know what will happen. You have three days. —J
Dropping the paper to the passenger seat, I dig through my purse and yank out the bottle of anti-anxiety pills. I pop the lid and shake one out into my hand before screwing the top back on. I throw the pill into my mouth, swallowing it down with no liquid. It tries to lodge in my throat, but I keep swallowing until I get it down.
Then I crank the car and tear out of the lot, my speed way faster than what is safe. Or legal. I don’t care. I have to get away from this store. Jimmy is here somewhere. Watching me. Just the thought makes me tremble.
I head for home, where I know my family is waiting, ready to protect me. They’ll help me chase the monster away.
“How was your session?” Savanna asks as soon as I walk through the front door.
I’m feeling better, less on-edge, and I don’t know if the meds are working this quickly or if it’s a placebo effect. I don’t really care, as long as I can think straight and stop being such a basket case.
I glance around the living room, taking note of its occupants. Jett, Wyatt and Beckett are on one of the couches, video game controllers in their hands as they grunt and bark at each other like boys do.
I open my mouth to ask where Silas and Slade are, but they walk out of the kitchen before I can voice the question. Slade smiles at the sight of me and strides forward. Pulling me in for a hug, he kisses the top of my head before twirling me toward his brother. I get the same treatment from Silas, and I breathe in his scent—he smells like fresh-cut wood and boy—before pulling away and asking them to sit.
“I have a lot to tell you guys,” I say, and the Pattons immediately drop their controllers and shut off the television.
“What happened?” Savanna asks, sitting forward in her seat.
“Did something go wrong at your session?” Silas says before I can respond.
“I’ll tell you about that in a minute. But first, I need to show you this,” I say, pulling the note from my back pocket.
I hand it to Silas. His eyes scan it as Slade leans in close to read it, too. They both frown, and one of them growls. Silas passes the notes to Jett, who has the same reaction before passing it on.
Once everyone has read it, I say, “A young mother gave me that in the parking lot of the pharmacy. She said a guy bought diapers for her and paid her fifty dollars to deliver it.”
“Could she have read it?” Beckett asks, and I can tell he’s worried about the woman.
“No,” I assure him. “It was in a sealed envelope. I opened it after she left.”
“Okay,” Jett says, “we have three days to stop this guy before he makes a move.”
“Why don’t we get just give him the blood?” Savanna offers. When all heads snap toward her, she holds up her hands. “Hear me out. We have our appointment with Dr. Sang tomorrow. If she’s going to create a vaccine to make everyone immune to persuasion, what does it matter if Jimmy O’Connor immunizes his congregation first?”
“He’ll be the savior who protected them from the demons’ powers for a short time, but once the vaccine comes out, he’ll be irrelevant,” Silas says. “Possessing that blood will take him to new heights, only to make his fall that much harder. I like it.”
“I don’t like giving that asshole what he wants,” Slade says between clenched teeth. “He hurt Lizzie.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, “as long as Grace is safe.”
“No,” Wyatt says, speaking up for the first time. “It does matter, Lizzie. You went to Savannah and risked yourself to steal that blood. You smuggled it back, tricked the president of the United States, and got seriously injured because of that blood. We can’t just give it to him. It’ll make everything you’ve done, everything that you’ve gone through, absolutely pointless.”
“I might have an idea,” Beckett says, and we turn our attention to him. A small smile ghosts across his lips as he looks at Savanna. “Remember the truck stop?”
Savanna smiles back, and it reeks of satisfaction. “Of course I do.”
When Savanna was trying to break free of Brother Earl, he’d caught up to her in a truck stop diner parking lot. In her panic, she called for help and unintentionally persuaded every person in the diner to come to her aid. Then she very intentionally persuaded them to beat him senseless.
I look at Beckett, the sweet, kind bookworm, with my mouth hanging open. “You’re suggesting Savanna use mass persuasion to make innocent people beat the hell out of Jimmy?” I ask.
He blushes, but maintains eye contact with me as he says, “It’s for a good cause. To keep Grace safe. If he’s in the hospital, he can’t hurt her.”
My only answer is a solemn nod, a whole new perception of Beckett blooming in my mind. He’s always the voice of reason, the shy one who usually tries to keep the other two on the straight and narrow. What I didn’t realize is that he can be just as ruthless as the others when it comes to protecting those he cares about.
I’m lucky to be included in that group, and so is my sister.
“Okay, so what should we do first?” I ask.
And we start to form a plan.
24
“Lizzie, this is Jared. Jared, Lizzie.”
“Nice to meet you, Lizzie.”
I return the sentiment and shake hands with the beefy guy, his grip soft despite what his large biceps would imply. They all played on the same baseball team in high school, and he hung out with the twins a lot last year.
They invited him over this morning after everyone decided I should work on my persuasion-breaking ability. With Savanna and the Pattons gone to their meeting with Emily Sang, we needed someone they could persuade in order for me to practice. The boys trust Jared and, apparently, he trusts them enough to let them persuade him.