I might respect the brilliance of these adepts if they weren’t so dangerous. Mel had been told what they were planning to do to Kinzie: the same as they did with all their victims apparently. They used fear to cripple the condemned’s quantum powers before carrying out their sentence, choosing whatever frightened the person the most. The teeming hordes closed in behind us as we passed down a ramp to the lower level. They’d gotten it right with Kinzie. Placing her here wasn’t just evil, it was cruel. She’d be helpless. Terrified.
“We need to find Norman or George,” Mel instructed Curtis as we hurried across the food court on the lower level to enter one of the doors down to the subway platforms. The musty odor from the subway tubes filled my nose. On the stairs down, I looked out over the packed commuters, like matchsticks in a box. At the bottom, a series of turnstiles and a steady stream of people swiped their metro cards and passed through the rotating gates that separated us from the platform. I glanced over at the card kiosk to see a long line of people buying swipe cards and my heart nearly ground to a halt.
“We’re not going to make it,” I growled, craning my neck as if that would help me see through the crowd.
“Go,” said Mel, and pointed at the turnstiles. “You’re young.”
I glanced over at the tough-looking metro cop watching for gate jumpers. “That guy’s going to come after me.”
“No he’s not,” said Mel. “Go. Go now.” She rotated my shoulders toward the gates and pushed me gently. “Use those legs.”
I’d seen folks get busted in the head by metro cops for jumping stiles but I had no choice. I shoved through the line, surged forward, and using my hands as a vault, went right over the bar. A shout rose up behind me and I shot a look over my shoulder to see a lot of angry faces, but the cop was totally oblivious. I hoped I’d remember to thank Mel for that one later.
“Greg, you look for Kinzie,” Mel called to me. It wasn’t necessary; I didn’t know what anyone else looked like and I was here to save Kinzie. I looked ahead to the platform that was like the rest of the subway stations across the city, with a low roof and a waiting area that stretched for fifty yards between yawning, black tubes. They planned to have one of the cars hit Kinzie, Mel had told me, making it look like a suicide. That meant she had to be near the edge of the platform. But which edge? There were tracks to my left and right, and a ton of people between me and either side. How could I find Kinzie in all this?
Looking back through the turnstile, I saw someone with a dazed look handing Mel their metro card. She swiped it and passed through the turnstile followed by Curtis. On the other side, they cornered a stocky, older man I’d just forced out of my way as I nudged my way further along, trying to figure out how I’d spot Kinzie. She was tiny. She could be on the other side of the guy beside me and I’d never know. This was like looking for buried treasure with a teaspoon. The futility overwhelmed me. My only hope was that she would be near the edge. But which one? No way was I going to let a crap shoot seal Kinzie’s fate. I scanned at each side. The left was more crowded. That’s where they’d take her.
I glanced back at Mel, hoping somehow they’d make this work. Hoping that George or Norman – whichever one the guy was – could put a stop to this madness. That he would stop it just to hear them out. He was nodding his head and began searching the crowd with his eyes. Maybe this would work.
But as I watched, a baggy-clothed guy with a swastika tattooed on his shaved head plowed into Mel, knocking her and Curtis away from the man. Damn adepts. Someone was stopping them. Jamison probably. Or Brolie. My fist clenched at the thought of him being here. I hoped I’d run into him – but I needed to find Kinzie first.
With a wake of ticked-off commuters swearing as I drove them aside, I finally reached the edge of the platform and the broad yellow caution line that ran down the floor. A cool breeze wafted down the tube that disappeared into blackness in either direction. I stuck my head into the void and listened carefully. Nothing yet. But all too soon I’d hear that familiar roar and if I hadn’t found Kinzie by then …
I went back to scanning the crowd searching for any sign of her. My heart sank lower with each second. What if I had the wrong side? Or if this was the wrong platform? I’d seen trains barrel through these stops at sixty miles an hour and my brain suddenly produced a mental image of Kinzie being crushed by one of these metal worms. Her tiny bones pulverized – a helpless rage welled up inside that very nearly canceled my brain’s ability to think. I blasted through the next group of people, scanning them quickly for any hint of Kinzie.
Halfway down the platform, a commotion drew my eyes back to where Mel had been. Jumping up, I looked over a sea of heads to glimpse what appeared to be a developing brawl. Commuters around me looked on in curiosity. I suspected Brolie or one of his friends was behind it, but there was nothing I could do about it at the moment. I looked around me again. Still no Kinzie.
I wormed my way down the platform, knowing that I could have walked within a foot of her and not seen her. I needed something faster. Then I heard it, the rattling roar of a train in the distance. I had only seconds. My heart stuttered like a jackhammer and I stepped out onto the yellow line. A woman reached out to pull me back and a middle-age man blasted for me to watch out, but I didn’t care. I ran down the open space of the line, inches from the dark chasm and the electrified steel tracks that passed along its floor.
“Kinzie!” I yelled, hoping beyond hope that she’d hear me. “Kinzie!” The roar of the train grew louder. I could feel its wind. Motion farther down the platform caught my eye. People leaning forward. Hands reaching out, grabbing as … Shit.
“Kinzie!” I screamed, as a pit opened in my gut and everything in my life became meaningless. The world moved in slow motion as I sprinted down the edge of the platform. I pushed away the hands that reached out to protect me, watching in horror as Kinzie’s foot came down into open space and her weight shifted forward. Her face was blank, staring straight ahead until it was too late. Her arms flailed as she lost her balance, realizing her mistake. I pushed for a last burst of speed. Her body went limp in midair, and I was going to watch in horror as she was crushed by the machine speeding in behind me. The wind pushed by the train whipped around me, the roar of the wheels blotted out all else.
Damn it! No! This couldn’t happen. Maybe I could push her back somehow. Or at least, we’d fall to the tracks together. She wouldn’t die alone. I leapt into emptiness, my hand clamping around her delicate arm as her body tumbled into darkness. A warm tingle spread up my own arm and through my body. Her shoulder wrenched and she cried out in pain, lurching violently like a spider dangling on the end of a web. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the train’s headlights and the face of the driver twisted in horror behind a thick pane of green-tinted glass. But it didn’t matter. I closed my eyes and waited for the end.
But hands tightened on my sides and legs, and the waist of my jeans dug into me as my momentum snapped to a stop. I felt myself jerked away from the tracks and Kinzie’s arm slipped through my grip. No! That familiar electricity coursed through my body and I squeezed tighter, feeling the tiny bones in her arm grind together. It was going to snap like a twig, but that was better than her body being ground to mush beneath the subway. The crowd pulled me back and Kinzie cleared the edge of the platform as the subway train barreled past to come screeching to a halt beyond us. I fell into the crowd, grasping Kinzie tightly.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” a deep voice blasted at me. I opened my eyes to find two guys built like linebackers standing over me. One guy was rubbing his hand where he’d grabbed my belt and I wanted to laugh. The brawl was expanding at the other end of the platform, and at this end, two complete strangers had saved me – had saved Kinzie. I swore to myself that I’d find them later and thank them. But not now. I needed to get Kinzie out of here before anyone could stop us. I gathered her tiny, limp figure into my arms and pushed furiously for the exit, like a salmon swimming u
pstream as the doors of the subway opened and the throngs clamored to get on board.
I reached the exit stairs and bolted up, running down the corridor at the top and out into the dining concourse before realizing that Kinzie hadn’t moved. My racing heart stopped cold as I pulled to the wall, letting the exiting passengers sweep past. I held my breath and loosened my grip on my precious cargo. She had to be alive. Had to. But as I stared down in to the pale beautiful face, I wasn’t sure. I roared in agony, as tears blurred by vision, then dipped my head and kissed her.
Chapter 30
Kinzie
The warm electrical thrill filled my body, and every detail of the turbula snapped into place. It was the best feeling of my life, and now I was reliving it in death. I let myself melt into the warmth and safety surrounding me. Comfort. Belonging. Love. Suddenly it was so clear. That’s all I’d ever wanted in life. All that was important. And now I’d found it – in death.
The warmth enveloped me, forming words in my mind, as my body floated down until my feet touched the ground. I must have been lying somewhere before, but none of it was clear. Gradually, the haze of my awareness lifted and there were words. “I love you,” a voice murmured into my ear, over and over. Greg’s voice. A hand stroked my face, leaving a tingling line in its wake. I opened my eyes.
“Greg?” I asked the figure holding me. It couldn’t be him. I was dead and he wasn’t. And the face peering into mine was ten times more beautiful than it had been in life. I must be in heaven. I raised my hand to run my fingers along the stubble of the strong line of his jaw and winced as pain shot up my arm. My stomach twisted with the shock. I was alive?
“I’m here,” he said softly, cradling my forearm in his hand. “I might have broken it, but you’re safe now.” His head rose to look at the people flowing past us. “Or at least you will be.” He placed my other hand on my elbow so my broken arm remained still, then steadied me as we joined the stream of people flowing past.
“I’m alive,” I noted curiously.
“No thanks to your Rothston friends,” Greg answered, searching ahead of us for the fastest way out.
“Did …” I paused trying to clear my brain and remember how I’d gotten here. But it was fuzzy. I was stepping out of the crowd, and there was a lot of noise, and then I was here. And Greg was here. How …? “Did Mr. Jamison tell you where …” I started when he cut me off.
“Jamison’s in with Brolie, Kinzie. You trusted the wrong guy.”
“Mr. Jamison?” I repeated in confusion. “No, he was trying to save me. Helping me escape.” I paused as the impossibility of Greg’s presence settled fully into my mind. “How’d did you get here?”
“With Mel.” He took me by the shoulder and pushed me sideways through a gap in the dense crowd. A rich scent filled the air where a circular coffee bar rose up in front of us.
I turned back to look at him. None of this made any sense. “Mel? But how … She’s delusional, Greg. She’s got –”
“She had a case of Rex-itis. She’s over it now. Perfectly fine.”
“But …”
Greg stopped and faced me. “Just stop arguing with me, okay? We can work out who’s nuts later. Right now, I’m a little busy saving you. And I don’t really want to leave Curtis and Mel here either if I can help it.”
“Curtis! Curtis is here?” I asked as he pulled me through the crowd again. “Where has he been? What happened to him?”
“Your buddy Jamison beat the crap out of him and tossed him in a dungeon to rot. So, I want to find them before the rest of The Seven do.”
I stopped dead in my tracks at those words. The person behind us sidestepped me to get around, nearly tripping over a wooden bench where some java junkies were getting their fix. “The Seven? They’re here? All of them?” I asked.
Greg nodded and my blood grew cold as the pieces fell into place. All seven of them were here. Bradley Jamison had lied to me. There’d never been a thought of me escaping. He’d said I’d be grateful in the end – like I had been for the sight of the open space beyond the waiting passengers. He’d planted the idea of escaping while I was here – encouraging me to move from where they’d placed me. He’d set me up. This wasn’t a leg to my final destination. This was it – with all of The Seven as witnesses.
“The noise. It was the subway,” I said as the understanding sunk in. “I was supposed to have died down there. They wanted to make it look like a suicide!” A shiver rose up my spine and my eyes went wide but Greg’s hands tightened around my shoulders, telling me I was safe. But how could I have been so wrong?
“I don’t see them,” Greg said scanning across the crowd. “C’mon, I’m getting you out of here.”
He led me past the large chairs around the coffee bar and along the food stalls at the side of the room. I could see an escalator rising up from the end and focused on it until the crowds drew around us again, blocking it out. With a deep breath, I studied the back of Greg’s shoulders and his strong arms. Dirt was ground into his t-shirt and I wondered where he’d been, allowing me to ignore the swarms around us. We were almost there.
A black-clad man in a cap with silver handcuffs dangling from his belt stepped in front of us and held up his hand. “Stop. We need you to come with us,” he said with a humorless expression. His shoulder bore the patch of the Metropolitan Transportation Authority. His partner, a slightly taller man identically dressed, blocked our way to the side.
Greg’s arm tensed around me. “Come where?”
“We need your statements,” the taller one said, moving forward to herd us toward the wall. He was older than his partner, with a touch of gray in the close-cropped hair below his cap.
“No way in h–” Greg started, but I cut him off, betting that these cops were being influenced by someone who wanted to stop us. Perhaps I could influence them back to whatever they were supposed to be doing.
“It’s okay,” I told Greg, adjusting my arms to make it look like they were simply crossed, hiding the wince of pain as the numbness of the broken arm began to give way to a deep throb. I didn’t want to rouse any suspicions that might reinforce their superimposed task. I let my eyes unfocus and examined the shorter one in the turbula as I spoke. “These officers must need our help, Greg,” I said to try to gain their trust while broadening the branch where this guy concluded they had the wrong people. It was harder than I’d expected – must be the aftereffects of the QIT. I needed to keep talking. “We would be happy to tell you anything you need. But at the moment, we are late for …” I hesitated, trying to come up with something.
“Our dinner reservations,” Greg took over, straightening to his full height. Before my eyes, he transformed from an angry college guy to something I’d never seen before. “We have seven-thirty reservations at Robuchon’s place, over at the Four Seasons?” he said with haughty confidence. “And as you can see, we aren’t dressed for it. We are on our way to our penthouse to change.” A charming, but rather condescending smile was plastered on his face.
The shorter guy wavered, believing that Greg was some big shot who could make trouble if they inconvenienced him. I grabbed onto the doubt and pushed that path wide. He started backing away, opening his mouth to apologize when his partner jumped in.
“This won’t take long,” his partner informed us before I’d had a chance to influence him. A loud crash echoed from somewhere behind us, followed by a man’s voice belting out a flurry of angry words that had a Spanish cadence. Another voice, lower in timbre, but sounding just as hostile, joined in. Even with four years of high school Spanish, the words were flowing so fast, I couldn’t tell what they were saying. And from the tone, they probably weren’t using words I’d learned in school, anyway. Another crash drowned out their shouting for an instant.
“Oh my gosh. What’s happening?” I asked, influencing the officer.
“Let’s go,” he said, and the two took off, trotting toward the disturbance. The men were still yelling foreign obscenities, a
nd the bystanders around us were moving in that direction to get a view.
“What did you do?” Greg asked.
“Wasn’t me.”
“Either New York’s gotten a lot rougher, or someone is helping us. Let’s get out of here.” The aristocratic persona fell away, and Greg ushered me toward the escalator, but we hadn’t gotten more than a couple steps past the last food stand when another figure stepped in front of us.
“Going somewhere?” Rex Brolie sneered, standing so close I could smell his peppermint gum. Bradley Jamison was at his side. With the wall on the other side of us, we couldn’t get around them without backing up.
“Rex, you should have better manners,” Mr. Jamison said in a silky tone. “After all, I went to a lot of effort to allow Kinzie to escape.” He stepped closer, and flashed me that smile I’d seen hundreds of times, the one I’d thought was kind and caring. But now I saw it for what it was – another tool for manipulating people to his will. People like me. A wave of anger roared through me and, before I could form the thought, my good arm flashed up and smacked him across the face.
“You lied to me,” I roared.
“Kinzie,” he said soothingly, his grin growing.
The prickling of my hand and the searing pain from other arm fueled my rage. “I wasn’t supposed to escape! You were trying to kill me! You set me up to do it myself,” I said poking him in the chest with my finger. “You did it all! You’ve been protecting Rex this entire time. What he did to Mel. To Murphy. To Jake Brady.” Jamison’s smile faltered as my rant went on. “You knew what he was doing – and you let it happen. You covered it …”
Foreseen (The Rothston Series) Page 32