Tyler had never felt so torn.
He had known Chris all his life. They were closer than brothers. It was Chris who had drawn Tyler into his world, had provided him with security, with friendship, with a place to call home. He had even shared his mother—Diane, who was in trouble now. But Tony and Angelica were part of a world Tyler desperately wanted to understand, a world he was beginning to trust more than his own. He saw the world as bigger than Chris did, understood that all this mess was far, far more than this single moment. That it was bigger than just one person or one threat.
“We need to wait,” Angelica stressed again. “They went after your mother because she’s Oneness. This is a strike on all of us. It’s foolish to try to do this on our own. It’s one thing to fight demons, but this time there are people involved. We have to be careful.”
“You followed Reese, didn’t you?” Chris asked. “When she wanted to do something foolish on her own and attack that hive? Isn’t that why some of you people threw her out?”
Tyler grimaced at the harsh words and the harsher tone. “Chris …”
Chris rounded on him. “That’s my mother in there, Tyler! She needs us now!”
“You’re right,” Tyler said, trying to swim his way through a sea of conflicting thoughts and emotions. “You’re right. She needs us. We need to help her.”
He turned to Tony and Angelica and repeated the words, beseeching: “We need to help her.”
“You don’t need their permission,” Chris snapped.
To both their surprise, Tony stepped between them and said, “All right. So what do we do?” He nodded to Chris. “You’re in charge. Tell us what to do and we’ll do it.”
Angelica stifled a protest. Chris raised an eyebrow. “You’re following me? I’m not one of you.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Tony said. “Right is right. I’d like to wait for Richard, but you can’t, I can see that. So we’ll stand with you. Tell us what to do.”
Chris seemed taken aback, and for a moment he sought for words. “The attic,” he finally said. “There’s a door on the roof that leads into the attic. From there we can come down the back stairs and into the house. Tyler can go back to the door—pretend he decided he can’t wait till tomorrow for those dues. Be real insistent, get them both focused on him. There are two, right?”
Tyler nodded. “As far as we know.”
“While he’s doing that, Tony, you and me come down the stairs and get into the house. We find my mother and get her back up to the attic with us, then out over the roof before Tyler lets up on them.”
“What if I can’t keep their attention long enough?” Tyler asked. “Or they don’t both come to the door?”
“I’ll help with that,” Angelica said. “We’ll manage.”
* * *
Diane sat ramrod straight, her fingers interlaced in her lap, with her eyes cast deliberately down and watching, peripherally but with all her attention fixed, the door to the kitchen. Hammer-man stood just a few feet away, his back to her, looking through her gauzy curtains into the street. The smaller man had parked himself by the door where Tyler had come knocking.
She had heard him, of course, knew what he was up to, and wanted to call out to him but did not dare. Not to call for help—to tell him to run.
Her inner eyes were going crazy. Flashing scenes at her with the regularity of blinking—flashing in and out of the world where she sat. Living room. Darkness. Living room. Blood. Living room. Demon. Living room …
Her heart beat hard and fast, pushing panic through her veins. She stiffened her whole body against it.
She was trying to pray.
Her hands shook, and she tightened her fingers.
Diane had never learned to pray. It was a skill, something to be trained in, and she had resisted. Had refused to learn, in fact. Prayer was a full entering in. It was a flinging wide, a plunge, a total surrender to Oneness, bringing the Spirit surging and then riding the wave like a surfer racing toward shore. One with the wave, the exhilaration, the spray; One with the very ocean.
Some were better at it than others. But the abandonment that was true prayer never left anyone unchanged, and Diane had spent twenty years fighting to remain the same.
But now was different. Now was abandon yourself or lose everything. You gave everything when you surrendered to the Spirit, but you gave it to power, and sometimes the power turned and worked in your favour. That power was the only thing that could help her now. So she tried, desperately, to grasp the images flashing before her eyes and gather them into something coherent she could hold in her heart and offer—as a question, a request, an open door, a gap in the seawall to let the wave through.
Instead, panic kept balling up in her throat, and her racing heart made focus impossible.
The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak, she thought.
Finally willing.
After all these years.
Even if for no other reason than sheer, selfish self-preservation.
Hammer-man moved over a little and made a grunting noise to himself, perhaps responding to something he saw in the street. His partner in the kitchen bumped into the stove, rattling the burners. She could not fathom why they had come here. She had spent two decades making herself as irrelevant to them as possible. Two decades hiding from the Spirit and trying to make the Oneness pay. Keeping herself apart so the Oneness couldn’t have her, couldn’t access her gift, couldn’t love her, couldn’t consider themselves part of her. They didn’t deserve anything else. Not after what had happened to Douglas.
Minutes ticked past, and the panic subsided somewhat as the images thinned and lessened. Memory took their place, scenes rehearsed a thousand angry, grieving times.
The world did not often take notice of the Oneness. Diane had told Chris as much—they were hidden in plain sight. Until something happened to bring the war out of the shadows. Then, hostile, vengeful, malicious, the devils—the slanderers—came boiling into the lives of human beings and tore into the Oneness with all the collected powers of human fear and demon hate. The results took many forms. Twenty years ago it had taken the form of an out-and-out pogrom. Citing suspicion of cult activities, police had surrounded a large Oneness cell in the countryside and firebombed it, killing men, women, and children. A few people got out. Stragglers were chased—some by the police, some by demons, some by others who hounded them down and murdered them. There had been other factors in it all, witchcraft, possession. The police had not meant for things to get out of hand as they had. The enemy had engineered it all.
Mary’s family were some of the few. The father and husband, Sam, had packed his wife and four children in a station wagon and just hit the road, driving as far and as fast as he could. Mary, his twin sister, accompanied them. They had nothing but the clothes on their backs, and when they ran out of gas, they left the car and started walking. Douglas found them on the side of the road and picked them up. He’d only intended to take them into town, get them to a phone or something so they could find help. Of course, he had no idea when he saw them walking single-file along the highway how much trouble they were in. Or how electrifying their presence would be.
Most of all, he hadn’t expected their love. The children were just children—the same mix of precocious and shy that would be expected in most families. But Sam, his wife, and Mary—they were different. Something about the way they interacted, the way they spoke, the way their eyes met exposed something deep inside Diane’s husband that undid him completely. He didn’t drop them off somewhere. He brought them home and hid them.
At first Diane hadn’t known what to think of them, but after they’d been in the house twenty minutes, she was as sucked in as Douglas was. Conversation happened, and that night over multiple pots of coffee, their talk turned the world upside down and inside out. They were electric, magnetic, true. Especially Mary. From the moment Sam’s twin sister walked into the house, Diane knew nothing would ever be the same. Mary wasn’t just a ne
w acquaintance, not just a potential friend. She was a promise of a life more real, more full and beautiful, than anything Diane had never known.
In the end it was Mary’s fault, everything that had happened.
The police came looking for them, and Douglas lied and managed to turn them away. Sam and his wife wanted to leave. Others would come after them; they decided it was too dangerous to Douglas and Diane for them to stay. They should go find a place in the cliffs, hide away from people, and try to fight the demons off. Sam was certain that they were being followed. Douglas hated the idea—he’d already made the family his responsibility and had no intention of letting them go out from under his protection until it was safe. But Sam was as iron willed as Douglas, and he would have won if Mary hadn’t talked him out of it.
That night she had convinced Sam that staying with the Sawyers was the right thing to do. That the Spirit had led them here, and here was where they should remain. She had convinced him that even if it cost something, it was the better thing to do. The woman had a tongue like silver. Even Diane believed her.
In fact, that night Diane crossed over. As Mary spoke of the Spirit and the world of the Oneness, Diane believed it—and as Mary held out her hand, Diane took it and became one of them.
Douglas did not. Mary had told Diane, with a twinkle in her eye, that he wouldn’t resist long. It was humbling to cross over—there was a surrender, an undoing of yourself to find yourself again as part of something bigger. It was hard for some to do. Especially a man as proud and self-sufficient as Diane Sawyer’s husband.
They lived there two months. The Sawyer house functioned like a cell, with Diane learning that she had a gift of eyes and Sam teaching her about prayer and Mary teaching her about living connected. The world was transformed. Douglas admired his wife’s new identity but wouldn’t enter it with her. She turned her first prayers in the direction of his conversion.
But the demons came after all. They came human: inhabiting the bodies of three teenage boys, high as kites and crazed. They slaughtered the children and the couple and Douglas, who tried to fight them. He was the only one who fought. The Oneness refused to battle those boys. Douglas died trying to protect Mary, and then Mary held Diane back. Held her, with her small frame and her arms that were too strong for her size. She dragged her out of the house and forced her into hiding, and for some reason the demons didn’t come looking for them.
Douglas took a few hours to die of his injuries. Diane sat with him and clutched his hand and cried and tried to talk to him, but his eyes were glassed over and he didn’t say a word. She didn’t know if he knew she was there. Her sharpest memory was the blood.
Mary stayed in the village after that, becoming the leader of a tiny cell. And Diane never, ever, ever forgave her. Her most bitter regret was crossing over. Her greatest fear was that Chris would follow her.
She had not actually thought to fear that the demons would come again. Mary’s cell was so small it was laughable. And Diane kept herself out of it.
Her head came up sharply at a pounding on the front door. Hammer-man turned to face the kitchen but did not move. The smaller man answered the door and she heard Tyler’s voice again, uncharacteristically pushy and argumentative. Diane would have laughed and admired their persistence if she hadn’t been so afraid for him.
And then she heard movement behind the door at the base of the attic stairs.
They hadn’t.
She couldn’t stop her eyes from darting to Hammer-man. He looked stoic and unmoved as voices in the kitchen rose. Chris would be coming through that attic door any minute. Tyler was doing his best to create a distraction, but the huge guard wasn’t budging.
She saw the shadow through the gauze curtains an instant before the window broke and flew in pieces into the room. Hammer-man whirled around just in time for a pair of feet to slam into his chest, knocking him backwards though not over. The intruder landed on the floor in a catlike crouch. It was a girl Diane had never seen before, though she knew immediately the girl was Oneness.
Hammer-man charged her, and she rolled out of the way and brought a heavy iron poker into the back of his knee. He roared in pain but still didn’t fall. She ducked another charge. In the kitchen, Tyler had forced his way through the door and climbed half up the smaller man’s back with his arm wrapped around the man’s neck. He was shouting. So was the girl. And then someone else was there—a boy, strikingly like the girl in appearance and apparently trained to fight. He took Hammer-man down with a rapid series of blows, but the huge guard was up on his feet again in seconds. He pulled a gun.
And someone was at her feet, undoing the restraints that kept her in her chair. She twisted her head to see who it was. Chris. He had her feet loose and practically manhandled her out of the chair, big hands tight on her shoulders, and pushed her toward the attic door. “Get out,” he said through gritted teeth.
The gun went off. Tyler and the smaller man were in the living room, still struggling; Hammer-man had the dark-haired boy by the collar; Diane’s eyes were blurred with tears as she struggled to see who had been shot. Chris shoved her—hard—at the attic door.
“Get out!” he roared.
And it was the past all over again. One domino after another.
Into the confusion a thought came to her with crystal clarity: if Chris succeeded in saving her life, would she hate him for it like she hated Mary?
Chapter 14
There was a little hollow under the thicket, and Richard and Mary and the hermit tucked themselves there, hiding under the bushes and watching as David’s men searched the house and spilled back into the yard. Aware that they were close enough to be heard in the still air, they said nothing. Shadows were lengthening with early evening, and they hoped the patterns created by the light would help them melt into their surroundings.
They tensed as one man stood ten feet away and scanned the cliff. His eyes widened, and he turned on his heel and jogged toward the house.
“Caught,” Richard whispered.
“Do we run?” Mary asked very quietly.
Too late. David strode up to the group, holstering a revolver as he did so. His greeting burst out, taking them all by surprise.
“Richard! Mary! Thank God you’re all right!”
Richard steeled his voice. “What are you doing here, David?”
David stopped just short of being close enough for a handshake, halfway up the hill and standing at a definite disadvantage. His approach couldn’t be less threatening. The other men waited just a little behind him.
“Looking for you, my friend,” David said. “We got wind of trouble and have been searching for you everywhere. The Spirit led us here.”
“Us?” Richard said, raising an eyebrow at the other men. “They aren’t Oneness.”
David flushed. “They’re friends.”
“You know what they are,” the hermit growled.
“David,” Richard said carefully, “do you know what these men are?” All four were standing in a line behind David, waiting, unassuming. They didn’t look threatening. If anything, they seemed … blank.
“Do you have Reese with you?” David asked. “Some of my cell followed you to the warehouse—we were worried about your safety. They told me what happened there. That you found Reese.”
“Why does that matter to you?” Mary asked.
David flushed and looked down, the picture of sorrow. “I had to exile her, Mary, you know that. That doesn’t mean I took joy in it. She’s obviously in trouble. If there’s anything we can do to bring her back …”
“It’s a little late for remorse in that direction, don’t you think?” Richard asked. “What did you do when you originally exiled her, pack her into the street with nothing but the clothes on her back?”
David brought his eyes up and met Richard’s gaze sharply. “We did all we could for her, but she didn’t want our help. She was resistant.”
Richard didn’t let him keep going. “You’re lying, Da
vid,” he said. “Reese was never cut off from the Oneness. You had no authority to do what you did. No one can cut another off.”
David looked genuinely confused. “What are you trying to say?”
“Honestly? I’m not sure. But something is very wrong. And you’ve lied. I’m not sure what to do with that.”
Before he could respond, the hermit spoke.
“I know you!”
David turned, obviously surprised. “What?”
The old man pointed a shaky figure, squinting in David’s face. “I know you. I remember you. You came here when you were just a young one. Just a few days after the bombing.”
“You’re mistaken,” David said. “I’ve never been on this mountain, and I don’t know you.”
“You’re lying again,” the hermit said. He cocked his head as though he was trying to take in David’s face from another angle, like that would prompt the memories out of sluggishness and back into play. “Yes, I remember. Those were terrible days. You lost too much in them.” He raised his eyebrows. “You wanted to be cut loose.”
“What?” Mary asked, turning to David. “What does he mean?”
The hermit carried on. “You wanted to be free of the Oneness. You came here to ask me to do it. But I couldn’t—no one can. And you left here angry.”
Richard’s eyes opened wide, and he looked first at the men standing silently behind David and then back at the cell leader.
And he knew.
“The hive …” Richard said slowly. “You’ve been responsible for years to attack the hive, and you kept things on the defensive. Then Reese started hearing from the Spirit because you weren’t doing your job. And you accused her of betraying her cell. You told her she’d been headstrong and independent and a fool, and that she’d caused the death of good people, and you told her she’d lost her place in the Oneness because of it. And you managed to project enough of yourself that you cloaked her—you’re where the deception comes from. Reese isn’t the exile. You are!”
Exile (The Oneness Cycle) Page 13