by Potter, Ryan
“I was right,” I say, turning toward him.
“Right about what?”
“Everything’s connected.”
“You’re acting weird,” he says. “That guy spooked you. We’re going back to Beaconsfield.”
“No,” I say, grabbing his hands. “Listen to me. There’s been a slight change of plan. I need you to drive me through Oval City. I need to see all of it. Just one quick pass, okay? And please don’t argue about it. I know it sounds crazy, but I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”
Lewis is about to say something but changes his mind. Instead, he simply shakes his head and walks back toward the truck.
Chapter 15
Lewis makes a U-turn on Wilkins and a right onto the service drive. We still haven’t seen another vehicle, but we begin to see more people. Lewis says they’re Perennial addicts coming to Oval City to score the purple powder that is destroying their minds and lives. It’s hard to see faces in the darkness, but the majority are young males. Like Aruna, they’re far too thin. Lewis says Perennial suppresses your appetite. Perennial addicts don’t think about food. All they think about is securing the next dose of Perennial. Lewis says he gained thirty pounds in three months once he quit using.
He turns right on the next block, another dark street, this one called Alfred. I notice him double-checking the door locks as he powers up the windows nearly all the way, leaving barely two inches of open space for us to take in the sounds of young lives gone downhill. A few addicts turn and eye the truck, suspicious and probably thinking we’re cops. They squint from the headlight glare, a depressing display of sad, pale, hollow, and paranoid faces.
“They look like death,” I say.
“Some of them aren’t too far away from it,” Lewis says. “Whatever you do, don’t open your door for anybody. We’re doing this as fast as possible.”
The four empty apartment towers are so close they could step on us. Lewis turns left onto a street called Brewster Loop and tells me it’s the street that gives Oval City its name.
“Also known as the Gateway to Hell,” he says. “Brewster Loop is the only way in and out by car. Get ready, Alix. It’s showtime.”
He accelerates as we pass the first tower on my right, and I instantly understand why my father’s job is so depressing and stressful. Groups of shady, dangerous-looking men eye the truck, evil grins plastered across their faces as they wave us over. Lewis says they’re some of Face’s low-ranking Perennial dealers, who assume we’re kids from the suburbs here to buy.
As we pass the second tower, my eyes gloss over with tears when I notice a few scantily clad, strung-out young women standing on the various corners, their glazed eyes giving away their addictions. Each girl reminds me of Aruna, and I can’t help but wonder where she is and how she’s doing.
“Hookers,” Lewis says. “The dealers get them addicted and make them sell themselves.”
“I know how prostitution works, Lewis.” I wipe tears from my eyes as we round the halfway point of the oval. “It’s just that I’ve never seen prostitutes in person before. What makes them try it in the first place? The drug, I mean. What made you start?”
“Everybody has a different story,” he says, constantly shifting his gaze from one side of the street to the other. “I think it goes back to how you talked about your parents on that Niagara Falls trip. They raised you right. My parents didn’t raise me that way. All they did was drink and fight. I was angry and looking to get back at them. That’s why I started using.” He pauses. “Or take somebody like Aruna and her sicko stepfather. Who wouldn’t want to run away from a situation like that?” We approach the third tower, where dark figures pass by several of the blown-out windows on the higher floors. “Girls like Aruna run away to the big city and end up with bad men who take advantage of them.”
“Are you saying William was bad?”
“No,” he says. “William had demons, but he was the best thing that ever happened to Aruna, and Aruna was definitely the best thing that ever happened to him. They were beautiful together, Alix. She was helping him get clean, but then Face came along and blew it all apart.”
A bloody-faced man wearing a white tank top and cutoff blue jeans stumbles out of the entrance to the third tower and collapses in the middle of the road in front of us, where he rolls onto his back and screams toward the sky, his face contorted in pain. Lewis has to hit the brakes hard to avoid running the man over.
“Oh God,” I say. “We need to help him.”
“No,” Lewis says. “We need to get out of here.” He swerves left to maneuver around the man, taking half of the truck up the curb and onto the dead grass, Lewis pointing toward tower three and saying, “See what I mean?”
I watch in horror as three men emerge from the entrance, each of them carrying what looks like a police-style club. Two of the men spot the man in the road, rush to him, and continue a violent beating that obviously started inside the tower. The third man just stands there, staring at the back of the pickup as we pass. I crane my head to the far right, watching him as he reaches for something in the back of his waist.
It’s a handgun. I don’t even have time to warn Lewis. He raises the weapon, and a burst of orange erupts from the gun barrel as he fires at us, followed by a loud crack and the sound of a bullet piercing the metal of the truck somewhere in the rear.
“Lewis, he’s shooting!” I yell, turning and ducking low in my seat. “Get us out of here!”
“Told you this was a bad idea,” he says. “Hold on tight.”
Lewis lowers his head and steps hard on the gas pedal. The sudden acceleration throws me back into my seat. I keep my head just high enough to see out my window as we quickly approach the fourth and final tower.
“They’re not going to kill that man, are they?” I say.
“Maybe,” Lewis says. “I don’t know.”
“I can’t get his face out of my mind. All that blood and the way he was screaming.”
“We’re lucky they didn’t kill us.”
“Take me home,” I say. “I need some time to think.”
“I’m sorry you had to see that.”
I spot another cluster of men in front of tower four as we approach. I’m guessing Lewis is doing at least forty-five miles per hour, which is probably why the men turn and watch us as we get closer. I stay extra low and pray they don’t shoot at us. I glance at Lewis, who has both hands white-knuckled to the steering wheel, eyes focused on the road.
As we fly past the men, they don’t engage us in any way.
But what sends my world spinning is the sight of my dad glaring directly at my window as we pass.
Chapter 16
“You’re sure it was him?” Lewis says. “We were going pretty fast.”
He speeds across the I-75 overpass on Wilkins and makes a hard left onto the northbound service drive. We’re next to Eastern Market now and safely out of Oval City.
“It was him,” I say, heart thumping as if I’ve just sprinted a mile. “I’m positive.”
“Think he saw you?”
“I don’t know,” I say, rubbing my forehead. “I’m screwed if he did, though.” I check my phone for messages or calls. Nothing. “My head was barely three inches above the window. I don’t think he saw me, but the way he glared at us.” Shivers ripple through me. “It was like he could see me even if I was invisible.”
“I doubt he saw you,” Lewis says, merging off the service drive and back onto the freeway. “Try not to worry about it. He’s an undercover guy doing his job. It’s not like he was looking for you. He was just staring at a fast-moving truck. He probably figured I was a buyer hightailing it out of there.”
“I don’t know how he does it, Lewis,” I say, trying to take his advice and not think about Dad spotting me. “His job, I mean. How can you see that kind of stuff on a regular basis and not go crazy? And why wasn’t he helping that poor man in the street? He had to have heard his screaming. And all the prostitutes, dealers, an
d addicts we saw. They didn’t seem to be afraid of anything. Why can’t my dad just round up the troops and arrest everybody? Or burn down Oval City?” I put my face in my hands and groan.
“It’s frustrating, I know,” Lewis says, reaching over and taking my hand in his. “But the only way to stop it is to get the kingpin. If your dad is working undercover in Oval City, he wants the same thing we want.”
“Face,” I say, sitting up as the realization sets in. “My dad’s trying to bust the Perennial ring.”
“I think it’s a safe bet based upon what we just saw.”
“I wonder if they suspect him in William’s murder.”
“Probably not,” Lewis says. “That’s a closed case as far as law enforcement is concerned. Suicide, remember?”
“You’re right,” I say. “Still, if my dad’s working to bust Face, then the difficulty level on this whole thing just skyrocketed.” I massage my temples with my free hand. “Ugh. Lewis, I’m getting a headache.”
“Understandable,” he says, squeezing my hand. “You know what I’m thinking about right now?”
“What?”
“How I’m going to explain the truck damage and bullet hole to my grandpa.”
He looks at me, and we both smile. Then, despite the disturbing evening we’ve experienced, we break into laughter. I suppose it has something to do with the fact we’re both glad we survived Oval City.
“God, Lewis,” I say, “do you think I’m going crazy?”
“You really want me to answer that?”
“Oh, shut up,” I say, giving him a playful jab to his right shoulder. I see the exit sign for the upcoming Beaconsfield ramp and finally manage to relax a bit. “Why do they call him Face anyway?”
“Ah,” he says, nodding. “I was wondering when you would ask about that. It’s sort of a joke really. Nobody knows his true identity, so people on the street started calling him Face. He always wears a freaky mask when he meets people for business.”
“Wait a second,” I say. “You’re telling me nobody’s seen Face’s actual face before?”
“Nobody I know,” he says. “I’ve never met the guy. I just bought Perennial from his dealers for a long time.”
“But you said Face destroyed William and Aruna, so surely William knew his identity. And Aruna, she’s Face’s … I don’t know, girlfriend or slave or whatever, so she has to know who he is, right?”
Lewis says, “If William knew who Face was, he never said a word about it to me.” He shrugs. “As for Aruna … you’d have to ask her about it.”
“Well,” I say, shaking my head. “That doesn’t make this any easier either. Face could be sitting right next to me and I wouldn’t know it.”
“Are you implying something?” Lewis says, giving me a wink.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” I say. “And then there’s Mr. Watkins.”
“What about him?”
“There must be a reason they found him near Oval City.”
“There is,” Lewis says. “It’s a good place to dump a body.”
“No, not that,” I say, thinking hard. “He was linked to Perennial somehow. It’s just something I feel.”
“Maybe Mr. Watkins was Face.”
“Not a chance,” I say. “According to Aruna, Face is alive and well. Although she did mention losing something of William’s, and that she was sorry about it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Lewis flinch.
“She said what?” he asks.
“Aruna said she lost something of William’s and feels bad about it.” I study him. His eyes are locked on the road. “I didn’t think much of it because she was so high, but does that mean anything to you?”
He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “No,” he says, opening his eyes and exhaling deeply. “All I can think is that maybe she lost some of his Perennial or something.” He shakes his head a few times. “I have no idea. Look, I don’t think you’re crazy, Alix, but I do think you need to be careful with every move you make from now on. You never know who’s watching you. You saw the ugly side of life tonight. I’m guessing there’s an Oval City in every major city in the country.” He signals for the Beaconsfield exit and heads up the ramp. “What I’m wondering is if you’re ready to tell me what’s really motivating you to solve William’s murder.”
I remain silent for a few minutes as we travel through the land of the wealthy en route to my house. All of these beautiful homes and wide, treelined streets sit less than twenty minutes from a one-block warzone of evil. Do I tell Lewis about the dreams and visions I’ve experienced during the past forty-eight hours? Do I mention London Steel battling demonic beasts? What would he say if I told him William is reaching out to me in my dreams at the request of Vagabond, who I haven’t even met yet but is clearly the architect of this whole test I’m trying to pass? Yes, Lewis exhibits his own strange behavior at times, but he’s human and I’m in love with him. I can’t tell him everything, but I decide to test the waters a bit.
“Remember last night on the porch,” I say, “when I told you something was happening to me and I knew that Oval City, William, Face, Aruna, and Perennial were connected?”
“Of course,” he says, turning into our subdivision. “And don’t forget about Mr. Watson and me. You had us on that list too.”
“I know,” I say. “And so far I’m right. Maybe not so much on Mr. Watson yet, but what I’m saying is that every person and place on my list connects to everything else on the list.” Nerves spread through me as I decide how much to tell him. “How do you think I figured all that out in one day?”
“Beats me,” he says, turning onto a quiet Maple Grove Street. “You mentioned a blog. Vagabond’s Warrior I think it was. Or something like that.”
“That definitely helped,” I say. “But let me ask you a question.” I clear my throat and take a deep breath as Lewis parks curbside a few houses away from mine. “Lewis, do you believe in ESP?”
“ESP?” he says, cutting the headlights and turning toward me. “What, you mean like psychics?”
“Yes,” I say, gazing straight into his gorgeous eyes now. “Specifically the ability to use only your mind to see past or future events in somebody’s life, even if you’ve never met them before.”
“Like the psychics who channel the minds of murder victims and help police find their killers.”
“Exactly,” I say, nodding. “Do you believe in that sort of stuff?”
“Are you trying to tell me you’re psychic, Alix?”
“No,” I say, smiling. “Not necessarily. I’m just wondering if you believe in those things.”
“Paranormal things.”
“Sure,” I say. “Paranormal. The unexplainable. Whatever you want to call it. Are you a believer?”
Lewis takes my hands and says, “I guess you could say I have an open mind on the subject.”
“Good,” I say, feeling pleasant warmth spread through me again. “Me too.”
“Right now, though, I think we should get back to where we were before Mr. Homeless interrupted us.”
“Hmm,” I say, tilting my head as we lean toward each other. “I think I agree.”
Our first kiss is perfection. I take one last look at his dark, wavy hair and aqua-green eyes, and then I thank God for blessing me with such a stunning human to kiss. I lay a palm on his pale face, admiring the high cheekbones for a moment before closing my eyes at the last possible moment before our lips touch.
Lewis’s lips are soft and moist, his breath pure mint. As we open our mouths, his strong hands move down my ribs and settle on my waist. A wonderful heat spreads through me, surprising me with the parts of my body it reaches. He’s like a living William Weed, my Dream Guy in the flesh. I feel my shoulders relax and my knees weaken. I have to remind myself to breathe. Lewis times it expertly, ending the kiss but keeping his lips close to my own.
“I was right,” I say. “You definitely have experience in this area.”
&nbs
p; He smiles. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He reaches for my glasses. “It might be easier if we take these off.”
“Oh, you are a smooth one, Lewis Wilde,” I say, reaching for his hands and lowering them back onto my waist. “Nice try, but the glasses stay on tonight.” I smile. “You’re welcome to kiss me again, though.”
“Fair enough.” He runs his hands along the sides of my ribs and places his warm palms on either side of my neck.
It happens as soon as his lips touch mine for the second time. I’m ready for another incredible kiss, but I see the explosion of white light instead. I’m not afraid of the light anymore, so I actually manage to enjoy the kiss and further melt into Lewis’s arms and lips as I await whatever vision I’m going to have about his past or future. It occurs to me that I really don’t know much about him, so I’m looking forward to what my abilities choose to reveal about his life.
The fear sets in when the white light morphs into another wall of searing orange and red fire.
There it is, just as it happened with the homeless man. Something isn’t right. I sensed the homeless man wasn’t human. I sensed he was evil in human form. But how can Lewis be evil? He’s dangerous, yes, but in good ways that have me hooked on him. Maybe I was wrong about the homeless man. Maybe I’m losing my abilities already and am no longer able to glimpse somebody else’s past or future. Maybe the fire represents the fizzling out of my abilities. If that’s the case, Vagabond’s probably already given up on me and I’ll never meet him. Would that be so bad? Not really. I never asked for ESP. It just happened. Deep down I want nothing more than to return to life as it was before yesterday morning.
But as much as I pray for the fire to go away so that I can enjoy my time with Lewis, the flames blaze even brighter and hotter in my head, forcing me to break the kiss and pull back.
“What’s wrong?” Lewis asks, concern on his chiseled face.