by J. R. Rain
“Wait a minute. So that wasn’t the drugs talking back there?” Ayden asked.
“No, man. I meant it. We need Hope back, and we need answers. We need to find Grant Simms and all of these other special kids. And it’s obvious we need the damn scrolls to pull it all together.”
Ayden and I looked at each other.
“We are a team,” Noah said. “I had you guys fooled anyway. I’m too ornery to die on you. I’m hurt, but I’ll live.
“We are a team,” I echoed.
Noah and I now looked at Ayden, who paused for a few seconds before agreeing. “Fine. Yes, we are a team. Let’s see if we can get the kid back.”
We all started gathering our things when a knock came at the front door. The three of us wrapped our hands around our weapons and I walked to the door. I looked out the peephole. “Holy, mother of—drop your weapons,” I told them, unlocking the door.
I fell to my knees and wrapped my arms around Hope. “What? How?”
She smiled widely. “I told you that I’d come back.”
“Yes, you did.” I laughed...and cried.
I shut the door after scanning the outside. “How did you find us?”
“A man brought me here.”
Ice snaked down my back, turning my bones cold. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Noah and Ayden had reached for their guns again. “What man?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. He knew you. He had really pretty green eyes and he was nice. I knew I could trust him. I just knew that I could.”
I swallowed and took a deep breath. I didn’t want to say his name out loud, but it was the only name that came to mind. I saw his beautiful green eyes in my mind.
Ayden and Noah said the name simultaneously. “John.”
Chapter Forty
Noah sat on the bench inside the light rail station. He watched people come and go. Hope sat with him. He liked the kid. She was a good girl. She was the last person who had seen his wife—his not-quite-dead wife. Had he been involved in covering up what had obviously been a scam—her faking her death by him? He wanted to question Hope and see if she’d learned anything while with the crazy ass bitch. But, the kid had been through a lot in the past couple of days. He couldn’t even imagine…and especially at only eleven-years-old. He’d get a chance to talk with her, but the timing wasn’t right at the moment. They needed to get out of Israel first.
As far as Jacqueline went, it was also apparent that the Geryon character had been involved with her while “working” at the school. Even though Hope had left the bitch on another timeline, if what he believed about her, Jacqueline—or Echidna, or whatever the hell she called herself—would find a way back. Noah was certain of it. No doubt with Geryon’s help.
He tried once again to make sense of the fact that the woman he’d been married to for four years had been able to do such an amazing job weaseling herself into his life, and also into that of his team. How could she have done what she did—basically make him a traitor of the team? He couldn’t blame them for not trusting him.
Then there was Kylie. Would she ever really trust him, knowing what she did now? Did it even matter? He’d seen the glances she’d exchanged with Ayden, but he’d also seen her look at him like that, too. Until...John’s name came up. They all now believed that John was alive, but like Jacqueline...how?
And why, if he’d double-crossed them in the past, did he bring Hope to them?
There were so many unanswered questions. At the top of the list was Grant Simms. Where the devil was he hiding? What had happened to the GEPSI kids? Where was Jacqueline and her cohort, Geryon, now? Not to mention Ivan Propokensko. Maybe, he’d been one of the Russians they’d killed at the caves. They knew Orlenda was dead. John had sent a sealed envelope with the kid; in it had been a gruesome photo showing her dead. Did that mean that John had taken her out? And, finally, what was the deal with the scrolls? And who was this man who was of ultimate evil? And who was the ultimate good?
Too many questions, he thought. And not enough answers.
“I’m really sorry about Echidna. But you didn’t know she was bad,” Hope said, breaking his thoughts.
He touched her shoulder. “Ah, kid, it’s okay.” Guilt strangled his gut some knowing that he’d been the one who had orchestrated her original abduction that had delivered her into the hands of Jacqueline and Orlenda. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”
“We have to figure out this puzzle, Noah. For everyone’s sakes.”
He didn’t have a response to that. He just finally nodded his head and stood up. “Wait here. Let’s see if Kylie has our tickets.”
“Okay.”
Ayden walked up to him. “You know that she’s going to want to find John, and when she does, she may not be happy about it.” He looked back at Kylie.
Noah shrugged. He had no answers to that either.
“I’ve got a guy working on the decoding of the scrolls. He’s an expert in this stuff. He thinks he can do it,” Ayden said, noticeably changing the subject.
“Good. I hope he can do it soon.”
“Right. Hey man, I’m sorry. I really am.”
“For what?”
“Not trusting you.”
Noah laughed slightly, a tinge of sarcasm in his tone. “For what? You’ve got no reason to be sorry. I was duped big time. Jeez. I even had answers locked in my brain that...that bitch, took from me. I don’t know...” He shoved his hands into his pockets and stood there shaking his head.
“Don’t know what?” Ayden asked.
“Maybe this isn’t for me. Maybe, I’m not cut out to help through these so-called powers I supposedly have.”
“You can’t let Jacqueline take that from you. Look, I get it. You fell in love. Jacqueline infiltrated your life. We let our guard down when it comes to emotions, especially love.” Ayden glanced back at Kylie standing in line for the train tickets. They were doing what they needed to do to cover their tracks and give them some time. They weren’t exactly sure who they needed to be covering their tracks from at this point, but they were sure it was someone, if not many people—Grant Simms included. “Let it go, Noah. We all screw up. We need you. Kylie, Hope, the team—we all need you.”
“Thanks.”
“Let’s get on the train. We’ve got to get a move on. A plane is being brought in to meet us at a private strip near the airport. The light rail will take us closer to it and then we’ll take a cab, according to the boss,” he said, referring to Kylie.
“Right.”
“You coming?” Ayden asked.
“Yeah.”
“Truce?” Ayden asked.
“Truce,” Noah replied.
Chapter Forty-one
John stood far enough away and his disguise was good. He had helped them. The Russians would’ve killed them if he hadn’t intercepted. That Geryon dude was clearly working for Ivan Propokensko, or it looked like that for now. It was kind of funny that the guy had duped Orlenda.
Funny how the world works. John sighed.
He’d begun to make amends. He thought again about the last two years in hiding. The years he mourned for what he’d lost and had only caused him bitterness. What had been stolen from him by Grant Simms and his “scientists,” he could only hope he would somehow find a way to get back. If he did, then maybe he could go to Kylie. Maybe he could tell her the truth.
Maybe.
Simms wasn’t any better than Orlenda had been. Maybe he hadn’t planned to take away what he had from him, but he had. His “experiment” had failed miserably.
But, for now, John had done what he could. And, if he knew Kylie the way he thought he did, he knew where she would be headed. He had a limited amount of time to cut her off at the pass, so to speak.
He took out a cell phone from under his robes. He dialed the number. A gruff voice on the other end answered. “Do you know what time it is here?”
“She’s coming to see you. I’m pretty certain of it. The team needs help. Th
ey have a piece of the scrolls. They’ll need your help.”
“Oh. And...I can hear it in your voice, John. There’s something else.”
“She knows I’m alive.”
“Oh?”
“You have to lead her down a different path. It’s dangerous for all of us.”
“I understand.”
John hung up the phone and turned to see the love of his life—who he knew was literally untouchable—board the train with the team.
He turned to leave the station, determined to find the cure he badly needed.
A nun walked right into him.
“I’m so sorry, Father,” she said in a clipped French accent.
He smiled. “Sister Marie-Luce?”
She nodded and returned his smile. “There may be a way that I can help you, John. I have instructions to lead you back to her.”
John’s eyes widened. “You do?”
“Yes,” She pursed her lips together. “Will you come with me?”
He looked back at the light rail headed to Ben Gurion International. He turned to the sister. “Yes. I’ll go with you.” He didn’t know what to expect, but John knew what he wanted—he wanted Kylie back in his life. He didn’t know if it was viable or not, but he knew he had to try, and if Sister Marie-Luce thought she could help him, it wasn’t an offer he thought he could refuse.
Chapter Forty-two
I sucked in a deep breath as we boarded the plane. So much had been lost and in some weird way, so much gained.
Information was key and it was really all we had. Sort of. We were waiting for the expert to decode the scrolls that Hope brought back. Once we had that vital piece, we could make a decision as to what to do with it.
Noah sat down across from me. I could tell he was still in some pain. Hope sat in the back, already reading. The kid was an avid reader and learner, and so many other things, but she had not been allowed to be a kid at all. I blamed Grant for this. He had stolen quite a few kids’ lives, and I wondered if there was a way of getting them back. I wondered if I would find where these children had been relocated, and who was now running the program.
I didn’t know. But I would try.
Ayden was staring out the window opposite my row. Maybe I should have fallen into his arms. Maybe I should stop pushing him away—but he wasn’t who I was in love with. At least, I didn’t think so. I glanced at Noah.
He looked over at me. “Lot on your plate.”
“A lot on our plate. Once we get the intel, we’ll have to decide what to do with it. Do we allow what’s supposedly been written to take its course, or do we do whatever we can to change that predestined future?”
“I suppose that decision rests on your belief in pre-destiny,” he said.
“I don’t know what I believe in,” I replied.
He nodded.
Ayden’s phone rang as the plane taxied down the runway. “Okay, yes. I understand.” He paused for a few minutes, obviously listening. “Yes. Thank you.” He hung up the phone and looked at us. “The scroll reads: The one of ultimate evil will be found to be a child who is born into one of power—one of power represented by the eagle. This child will come to understand that power on the twenty-first year of their life.”
I shot Noah a glance. My mind racing at a rapid clip. “How old is Julia Dennison?” I asked, referring to the president’s daughter.
Ayden opened his laptop and began typing. “Twenty. Her birthday is in two weeks.”
“Whoa,” Noah said.
“That’s not all,” Ayden said. “The ultimate good will be born on the same date as the child of evil and within the land of Gaul. The mark of the Chi-Rho will rest on the child’s neck.”
“Land of Gaul? Chi-Rho?” Noah asked.
“France. Gaul is now the area we call France,” I said. “Chi-Rho is a symbol—someone start Googling. And we are going to New York,” I said.
“New York?” they both said in unison.
Hope looked up at me and smiled.
“I know someone there who might be able to help,” I said.
I stood up and walked to the cockpit, and opened the door. The pilots turned and looked at me. “We won’t be going to LA,” I said. “We need to reroute to New York.”
The captain nodded and I sat back down in my seat, took a deep breath and hoped the man we were going to see could help us. I also knew that if there was anyone else in this world who knew what happened to John and where he might be, it was my friend who was based out of Queens.
To be continued in:
Speak No Evil
The final book in the PSI Trilogy
by J.R. Rain and
A.K. Alexander
Coming soon!
~~~~~
Also available:
Flight 12
A PSI Novella
Read John Herrel’s back story here!
Amazon Kindle or Amazon UK
~~~~~
Also available:
Winter Wind
A Mystery Novel
by J.R. Rain
Amazon Kindle or Amazon UK
Also available:
The Dead Celeb
An Evie Preston/Grey Tier Book 1
by Michele Scott
(read on for a sample)
Chapter One
MY NAME IS EVIE PRESTON and I hang out with dead rock stars. Oh, and the occasional dead movie star or two. I’ve learned quite a bit about those who live on the other side over the past few months. For instance, they aren’t all ghostly and transparent. Oh no. The ones I see are almost always in full- color and 3-D except when they exert, ah...certain energies. Then they go a bit hazy. Oh, and they prefer to be called spirits.
Yeah, I know...I sound completely insane. Like, “commit me” insane. But honestly, I am not crazy. Believe me, the first time I saw Bob Marley in my place (well, technically not my place, but I’ll get to that) in the Hollywood Hills, getting high and singing “Buffalo Soldier,” I thought I was either dreaming, hallucinating, or, yes, completely nuts. Thankfully, it was none of the above. In fact, Bob is a very real, very dead guy who likes to hang out with me, along with a handful of other deceased, famous rock musicians (and a few who never quite made the charts, one of whom I’ve recently developed feelings for—more about him later). So, not only do I hang out with dead rock stars, I also think I am in love with one, or at least in lust… which makes me totally screwed up. But I am not crazy. I swear.
Before I go any further, though, I need to take you back a few months to the day after my twenty-eighth birthday. Welcome to Brady, Texas—population 5,500—and, according to the sign on the main road into town, “The Heart of Texas.” Truth be told, the signs were everywhere. Signs, that is, telling me to get the hell out of Brady.
I was at Mrs. Betty LaRue’s place. Her house smelled of Tide, home cooking, and mothballs. Betty was comforting me over the dismal turnout of my Mary Kay presentation—my latest attempt at becoming an entrepreneur—which she’d kindly hosted.
We were drinking apple-cranberry tea, with her Lhasa Apso,
Princess, curled in a ball under Betty’s chair, and my dog (of indeterminate breed...possibly part-coyote and part-lab, with a dash of border collie in there), Mama Cass, across my feet. I loved how Betty always let me bring Cass in the house. My dog went everywhere with me, but not everyone was as gracious about her presence as Betty.
“I really thought this would go much better,” I said, bringing the warm cup of tea to my lips.
Betty smiled sympathetically, the fine lines in her eighty- something face creasing deeper into her skin, “Oh, honey, I don’t know what happened to my girls today. I am so sorry. I thought there’d be at least ten of us. They all love my snickerdoodles. But you know how some of us old gals are; we forget things.” She twirled a yellow-white wisp of curled hair around her finger. The rest of it was pulled up into a loose bun (or chignon as Mama calls it). She’d obviously been in to see my mother that morning for her weekly hair
appointment.
I nodded. “It’s okay, Betty. Thanks for hosting anyway, and the cookies were delicious. Three isn’t such a bad turnout.” Thing was, only Betty bought anything. Her friends, Margaret and Hazel, came for the cookies and samples. “And I made about ten dollars, so that will buy me a couple of meals. You’ll love that anti-wrinkle cream, by the way.”
Betty ran a hand over her face and laughed sweetly. “Child, ain’t nothing gonna work on this face now. And I’m proud of these lines. I earned them.”
I laughed back. “So you only bought the cream because you felt sorry for me?” Cass’s ears perked up and she lifted her head to peer at me.
Betty sighed. “Evie Preston, I have known you since you started kicking up a fuss in your mama’s belly.” She winked at me. “I’ve watched you try so hard to be exactly what your mama and daddy wanted, especially after all that bad business. And there was that unfortunate situation with—” She paused. “What was his name?”
She brought her cup to her lips, her hand shaking ever so slightly. I sighed, knowing exactly what bad business she was referring to. As for the unfortunate situation, he was the star quarterback my senior year and the lucky recipient of my virginity. Sadly, he was also the jerk who then decided to share the news with the entire town. Thank God my mother was able to intercept that little tidbit before it reached my father’s ears.
Betty waved her free hand in the air as if to brush the painful thoughts away. “I know you were hoping to be a good Texas girl and marry a good Texas boy and have babies and run a family like your folks did, not because you really wanted it,” she said, shaking a finger at me. “But because your parents wanted it for you. And now, my dear,” Betty leaned over and gave me one of her rare, stern looks. “It’s high time you stopped pretending and started living!”
“What do you mean?”
“You got a God-given talent. You need to get out there and do something with it.”