Driving Rain: A Rain Chaser Novel

by Sierra Dean

  I snorted. “Sure.”

  “We have to go to the addresses,” Sunny reminded me.

  “It’s some stupid speeches, Sunny. I don’t think it’s worth the risk.”

  “Well, I’m going.”

  I buried my face in my hands, stifling a groan of impatience. Of course she’d go. Someone in charge had told her it was mandatory, and she wouldn’t even consider stepping a toe out of line because she was the perfect cleric and I was the disappointment who rebelled against her temple.

  Did Sunny know that by insisting on going she was forcing me to go along too? I wouldn’t leave her by herself there, not for all the money in the world. If she was going, I was going. I grumbled into my palm.

  “You two are staying here.” I pointed to Sawyer, who seemed like she was about to protest. “No arguments. None.”

  “But you’re going?” Sawyer asked. “If you’re going, it has to be safe.”

  “That logic is so profoundly wrong I don’t even know where to start. I am very rarely the beacon of a safe space,” I reminded her.

  She looked crestfallen. “But you protect people.”

  Sunny gave Sawyer a soft smile and squeezed her arm.

  “I don’t protect people intentionally,” I countered. “I promise you any and all heroics are entirely incidental. If you guys are there, I’m going to be worried about you the entire time. I can’t find this killer if I’m thinking about your safety.”

  “Killer?” Sawyer’s eyes got big, and she glanced at Leo and then me. “Wait, hold on. Killer? What killer?”

  Shit.

  “It’s nothing,” I lied.

  “You don’t get to say you’re hunting for a killer then say it’s nothing.” She stared at me like I was an idiot. I think she was beginning to realize I wasn’t quite the person she had believed me to be when she started this journey.

  I had tried to point out the cracks all along, but I guess she had to see them for herself.

  “Someone made some threats against the clerics.” Sunny cleverly dodged the part about the dead kids, for which I was grateful. I wasn’t sure how I was going to explain to Sawyer that we were sitting here eating a casual breakfast when a guy who had murdered twelve kids younger than her was somewhere nearby. Like, how do you contextualize that?

  I could barely make it make sense to me, and I was an adult. I didn’t think she’d be able to see me the same if I disclosed that extra detail. I’d never known anyone who looked at me the way she did. Like I was someone worth being.

  Disappointing her would change that.

  “So you knew someone might attack the convention?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you didn’t do anything?” Her tone was an indignant snarl. You’d think she was the one who had gotten injured yesterday and not me.

  “I did. I brought it up to two different people in power, and they tightened security and took the steps they thought necessary to keep people safe.” I was getting a bit annoyed. I felt like I had done more than my fair share to keep things secure at the convention. Short of canceling it myself, there wasn’t anything else I could do.

  The show must go on and all that.

  She didn’t immediately have any snippy retorts to lob back at me. Guess she realized it was hard to be a brat when you have no ammunition.

  “You should have told me.” Sawyer crossed her arms and pouted at the table.

  “I should have? Okay, Sherlock Holmes, you tell me what good that would have done. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be scared. I didn’t tell you because for some impossibly stupid reason I thought maybe you’d be better off not knowing about a killer hanging around the same city where you were on this little runaway vacation of yours. I made my decision, I stand by it, and if you don’t like it, then maybe you should have stayed in Lovelock.”

  Everyone at the table fell silent. I was mirroring her sulky gesture, my arms crossed, leaning back in my seat, a glower affixed to my face.

  I guess she must have been used to more coddling because suddenly her stern expression cracked and tears welled in her eyes. She opened her mouth, trying to come up with something to say, but all that came out was a sobbing sound.

  Sawyer pushed her chair back from the table and bolted from the restaurant. Belatedly I shook off my surprise and moved to go after her, as did Leo, but Sunny got up and waved her hands at both of us.

  “I’ll find her. Tallulah, you go to the Luxor, I’ll meet you there. Leo, I’ll call you when I calm her down, okay?”

  She didn’t wait for either of us to answer. Instead she left the restaurant and went off in the direction Sawyer had run. It made more sense, honestly, for Sunny to be the one to soothe her. Between the three of us, Sunny was the warm one, the nurturer.

  Leo and I didn’t know the first thing about comforting others because no one had been around to comfort us for the bulk of our lives.

  “That was maybe a bit harsh,” he commented, once Sunny had left.

  I glared at him. “They don’t exactly come with a handbook, Leo. Or did you find a copy of Temperamental Teens 101 in your room that I didn’t get?”

  He took a sip of his coffee, his expression totally unreadable, then set his mug back down. “You think yelling at me is going to make you feel better?”

  “When did you turn into a psychologist?”

  “About the same time you started caring about that kid, I’m guessing.”

  I huffed, like I was going to argue, but the fighting words never came. He gave me a knowing smile, and I wanted to slap it right off his face.

  He said, “It’s okay, you know.”

  “What?”

  “Caring about people.”

  My shoulders sagged, and I looked down at the table. The words were a shot right to my sternum. How long had it been since I let myself care about anyone? I’d spent so much time holding people at a distance, and now suddenly here they were. Cade, Sunny, Leo, Sawyer. All these people and all these…feelings.

  “Maybe I don’t want to care,” I replied quietly.

  Leo put his hand on my shoulder, then playfully cuffed me on the chin. “Too late, kid.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  I saw Cade lingering at the back of the seating area when I got to the Luxor. He was in another nice suit, his arms covered. This one was a dark navy blue that made his olive complexion look warmer somehow, in spite of the cool tones.

  I navigated my way through the crowd and dropped into the seat beside him.

  Just like Sunny had said, the security surrounding the convention had tightened significantly. Reporters were queued up outside with police officers and explosive-sniffing dogs going through camera bags. Every cleric or civilian who wanted to get into the hotel was being subjected to a thorough bag search and a full-body pat-down.

  Inside the hotel there were armed officers patrolling the lobby and the upper levels. Every exit had at least two guards standing at the ready. The Starbucks had been closed for the day, as had the lobby gift shop. It looked like they were trying to limit the number of extra bodies who had access to the space.

  I was amazed by how completely they had erased any record of the day before. All the broken glass had been replaced. The front entrance had been cleaned and scoured, and there was no sign of char marks or anything that might have suggested the explosion had taken place.

  If I hadn’t been standing here the day before when it went off, I never would have known.

  Still, they couldn’t erase my stitches. They couldn’t wipe my memory.

  Even with a room filled with armed men and everyone being checked before they were allowed entry, I still didn’t feel safe. A lump was building inside my chest, and the sensation that something terrible was about to happen hung over my head like the proverbial sword of Damocles.

  Cade glanced at me when I sat down, but he was so skilled at schooling his expression he didn’t smile or react in any way to my presence. I let myself get briefly distra
cted from my doom and gloom long enough to wonder if he might have heard me the night before when I told him I thought I loved him.

  If he had, would he bother saying anything?

  It wasn’t like we could have a perfect, ride-off-into-the-sunset kind of future. Maybe if he did love me back, it would be easier for us to not know.

  I smiled at him.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Corentine.”

  “You’re looking well today, Mr. Melpomene.”

  “I’m looking well?” He smirked a little then, and I thought my insides were going to melt like butter on a skillet. “Are you a heroine in a Jane Austen novel now?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Make me,” he whispered.

  A tiny shiver of delight rioted through me, sending off metaphorical sparks all over my skin. How was it he could undo me so completely with two little words? The power he had over me was so magnificent, it was unbelievable. If he told me to jump off a cliff, I might do it, as long as he promised to jump with me.

  This bastard was going to ruin my life, and I would love every single minute of it.

  Love, I was starting to realize, was a lot more dangerous a power than any of us had ever been taught to respect.

  No wonder it was the one thing we weren’t allowed to have.

  Even the Infatuates used the power of lust, not love. They were just as forbidden from feeling as the rest of us.

  I loved my sister, but that wasn’t the same. Sisterly love was akin to breathing, it was a part of me. Loving Sunny was so natural it was like day and night. Like oxygen. It was a constant, and it was easy.

  Loving Cade was something altogether different. It was blissful agony. Precious torture. It was a vulture picking at my bones. I hurt all over because I loved him, but if that pain were to vanish, I would mourn it until I wasted away into a pile of dust and memory.

  There was a very good reason love was forbidden to clerics. This was the only feeling I could imagine being strong enough to wrench someone away from doing the bidding of a god. Between love and destiny, I think most of us would choose love.

  Too bad I was already on the path of my destiny, going one way to nowhere.

  I wanted to take his hand and squeeze, but it was too dangerous here. I smiled at him instead, hoping there would be a way to see him again alone before everyone left in a few days.

  One more night, was that too much to ask?

  It might be, but I’d ask for it anyway.

  Prescott took the seat beside me. “What, no golden shadow today?” He glanced around, looking for Sunny.

  “She’s doing something else. She’ll be here soon.” I checked my watch. It was almost noon, which meant Sunny was cutting it awfully close if she was going to make it on time for the public addresses.

  “Maybe she’s stuck out front in that interminable line.” Prescott huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and staring straight forward at the stage. “It took me fifteen minutes to get through the door, and I had just gone across the street for a coffee. It’s ridiculous.”

  “You know there was an explosion yesterday, right?” I replied.

  His gaze jerked upwards to my stitches, then met my eyes. His expression was stony. “Well, no one died, so don’t look at me.”

  “So sorry you were inconvenienced.” I mirrored him, crossing my own arms.

  “Children,” Cade scolded. “Play nice.”

  The temptation to say He started it was high, but I bit my tongue. Prescott managed to needle me effortlessly. I couldn’t think of another person who drove me quite so crazy with such little effort.

  I started to get nervous when Imelda took the stage and there was still no sign of Sunny. Had something happened to Sawyer? I pulled my phone out of my back pocket but had no missed calls or texts. If something serious happened, I had to imagine they would reach out to me.

  While scanning the crowd I spotted Leo near the entry doors, easy to see as he was several inches taller than most of the people around him. He nodded at me, then gave an apologetic shrug when he saw my disappointment that he was alone.

  “Good afternoon,” Imelda announced, calling my attention back to the stage. “I’m so grateful to everyone for joining me here today. As you know, the Convention of the Gods is an opportunity each year for those who are closest to the gods—their earthly clerics—to come together and discuss how best to serve you, the general public. This is a wonderful chance for us to create programs and initiatives that bring your prayers directly to your beloved gods and goddesses, and also return more results to you.”

  A smattering of applause echoed through the crowd of civilians who had gathered. They’d moved the jam-packed civilian viewing area closer to the stage so people could see and hear better. It was wedged full of people pressing up against the barricade, snapping away with phones and digital cameras as if we were celebrities they were dying to get photos of.

  I caught sight of a blonde head in the crowd and leaned forward in my chair. No, not one blonde head. Two. One was unmistakably golden, the other a pale platinum cut short.

  My heartbeat stuttered with unexpected anxiety.

  “It is our duty as clerics,” Imelda continued, “to serve you to the best of our ability. We are the earthly hands of these gods, and our only goal is to help them help you.”

  Let’s not kid ourselves, Imelda. It was our job to please the gods, and we would help humankind only if it pleased the god we served. Suggesting anything else was utterly absurd or an outright lie.

  The people in the crowd didn’t seem to care. They were eating it up with a spoon.

  I craned my neck to see over the rows of clerics sitting in front of us. The civilian crowd shifted, and sure enough, there they were.

  Sunny was next to Sawyer, an arm around her, and she appeared to be scanning the room for me.

  When she spotted me, she waved and elbowed the teenager, pointing to my location.

  Sawyer still looked surly but lifted her hand in a halfhearted greeting.

  Then the corner of the stage exploded.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Imelda went flying, arcing through the air as if she were a mannequin, landing somewhere on the steps up to the second floor. All I could see was a jumble of limbs.

  The area next to the stage, where the civilians were standing, was flattened. Bits of metal and wood were raining down over where the people had just been, and a huge crater was swallowing up what remained of the stage.

  The big, heavy posts that had been constructed to hold up the audio system and lighting rigs swayed dangerously, then collapsed. A whole row of clerics fell under the first one. The sound made me sick to my stomach.

  Camera crews were divided. Some continued to film, the instinct to capture the carnage greater than their need to run to safety. Others only cared about themselves—and who could blame them?—and ran for the exits.

  The hotel lobby was a deafening roar of screams and panic. The ringing from the day before had returned, this time worse, but even though it was like a silent alarm going off in my inner ear, I could still hear everything else going on around me.

  It took me a minute to realize why I was viewing everything from a weird angle. The weight of not one, but two bodies was on top of me, crushing me beneath a row of scattered chairs. I wriggled, trying to get myself free, and finally had to start throwing elbows back in order to get them off me.

  Both Cade and Prescott had apparently lunged for me at the same time, resulting in a heap of the three of us being on the floor when the debris started coming down. They were both caked with dust, but neither was bleeding as far as I could tell.

  I got to my feet too fast, wobbling slightly because of the imbalance created by my inner ear, and braced myself against Cade to keep from falling down again.

  The second explosion blew me backwards anyway, toppling over the chairs behind me, sending me sliding through the mass of running bystanders.

  The whole stage was gone now. Bits of
flooring and wood were raining down in splinters. People were tripping over me, kicking me, falling down in their desperation to get to an exit.

  Now everything sounded like I was underwater. All the screaming and shouting had been reduced to the wub-wub-wub throbbing of my own heartbeat. I scuttled backwards across the floor until I was out of the way of the stampede, then used a pillar to pull myself up to standing.

  My eyes were caked with dust, and wiping them barely did any good. The whole lobby was thick with smoke and debris, creating a cloud I couldn’t see through. Where the stage had once been was just a hole. Where the chairs were in neat lines only a minute earlier were only gnarled metal frames and smears of blood on the tile.

  There were pieces of people on the floor.

  I gagged and sobbed at the same time.

  Where was Cade? He’d been right beside me a second ago, but now I was somewhere else, blown clear across the room. Was he okay? What about Leo? He’d been the farthest away, but it was hard to say how far the debris had gone.

  My gaze crossed the room toward the stage, and the reality of it sank in.

  The entire civilian area was gone.

  My breath vanished. I braced myself against the pillar and tried to rationalize what I was seeing. Surely I’d just forgotten where people had been standing. There had to be some mistake. The civilian crowd must have been farther back, behind the cameras. They were all fine; they’d been the first ones to get out.

  I lied to myself, because anything else would mean I had to admit that the place Sunny and Sawyer had been standing only a minute earlier was now a smoldering crater in the tile.

  “Sunny.” I pushed myself away from the wall, dodging people as they ran for the exits. At the main doors, the crush to get out was so much that people had begun stacking on top of each other, clambering over one another in an attempt to be the first ones out. Any attempts at human decency were abandoned and replaced with a far more primal need to survive.

  Ignoring the possibility that there might be a third explosion, I made my way through the devastation that had once been the media area. A CNN reporter whose face I recognized was sitting on the floor crying, holding a bloody shoe in her hand.