He climbed out of bed and slid his pants off a nearby chair. The buzz from the tiny refrigerator was the only sound in the dim room, but this wasn't nearly enough to get his brain jump-started. He snatched the television remote and turned the TV on. It didn't matter what channel, he needed noise.
Questions, he thought, mostly to himself. I had a bunch last night. He pulled his shirt off the chair and slid his arms in the sleeves. That was quite a thing you did with Brent Castle.
There was no response, but then again, it wasn't really a question. He rubbed his face with his hand and stretched. It would have been nice to do this the night before when the questions were fresh. How much do you know about us?
"We have been watching your species for some time."
The whole planet?
"It is not beyond our ability."
Why watch? Why not come down?
"That is a matter we are hoping you will help us solve. But first you must grow in strength."
Why do you need me to solve it?
"You will understand in time."
What is preventing you from coming down?
"The fear and ignorance of the superstitious and religious."
Religious? He remembered back to the conversation with Brent Castle and how the end of the conversation took an odd turn toward religion and God. If you have such an issue with religious people, why did you make me pretend to be some sort of conduit for God?
"Because to save them, you must become one of them."
You’re not gonna make me become a priest or something.
"No. A prophet."
I don't want to be a religious nut!
"Do you remember how it felt to control Brent Castle?"
He did, it was a feeling he wouldn't soon shake. There was something intoxicating about knowing another person's innermost secrets and using those secrets as a cattle prod. It was shameful, but he did enjoy it. Perhaps too much. Yes. I remember.
"The people of your world will not see you as a religious nut. They will be tempted to worship you as a god."
A god?
"Jon. That is who you are with us."
A knock at the door made his heart jump.
Who’s that? As the question formed in his still groggy mind, he remembered asking Canary to come back in the morning. It had to be her. He gathered himself, walked to the door, and peeked through the peephole. There was an undeniable sense of contentment when his eyes confirmed that it was her.
"Hey there," he said, opening the door wide.
She wrinkled her forehead sheepishly and her full lips stretched into a broad smile. "I brought coffee."
"Coffee sounds perfect."
She handed him the styrofoam cup. "Castle said to wear something casual. I hope this works." She had on a brilliant red blouse and a jet black skirt that contrasted nicely with the top. Around her neck was a black lace choker that was both simple and opulent, like Canary herself. Her golden curls touched lightly on her shoulders. Her brilliant blue eyes had him instantly under their power. She could have asked him to do anything, and he would have willingly obeyed.
Thankfully she didn't abuse her power. Her first request was reasonable. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah," he fumbled. "Sure. Come in."
She slid past but stayed near him at the door, as if the room were a dark cavern they should explore together. This was the kind of detail that fanned his passion for her. She could have strolled into the center of the room and made him feel awkward and isolated, but instead, her body language assured him that she needed him.
He shut the door and turned toward her. "I hope you slept well."
"Yeah, after my mom finished grilling me with questions."
He smiled.
"Did you?" she said, lifting her brows.
"As good as can be expected."
"I can understand that," she said, taking a sip of coffee.
He leaned against the opposite wall in the tiny entrance hall to the suite and sipped his. "I didn't get a chance to say it last night, but I'm glad you're safe."
She tightened her lips. "I'm glad you are, too. I can't imagine what that must have been like, being buried alive."
"We were alive, but it smelled like death down there."
They both chuckled.
She shook her head. "I don't even want to know."
"That's probably best."
She took another sip. "So, did your voices tell you what they're planning?"
He scanned her face. Did she already know the answer to the question, or was she prodding for information? How much did she and Jakson know?
"Your friend Jakson didn't tell you?"
"Yes. He told me. I was just curious if your voices told you."
They took control of his lips and answered her question. "This world is on the brink of darkness, and I'm going to stop it."
"And how did they say you're going to do that?"
He felt his lips move again, under their influence. "By stopping an evil man."
The words they fed to him had a noticeable reaction. Her face smoothed, and her posture loosened.
"Did that confirm what Jakson told you?" he said, on his own initiative.
Her eyes warmed. "Yes. It is exactly as he said."
He didn't care about evil men or saving the world, but it brought him satisfaction to know that they were on the same side of this thing. That meant she could be with him. More than anything else, that was his desire. But there were still questions—questions that could not be avoided. "Tell me something. How does Jakson know so much about me and these voices?"
"Jakson has gifted people working for him. People like you and me."
"Gifted?"
"Yes. With unexplainable abilities."
He studied her face. "And what, exactly, is your super power?"
She smiled coyly. "You don't know?"
He gave no response, but waited silently.
Her countenance dropped. Her eyes appeared numb. "I turn invisible," she said, evenly.
The hair on his neck tingled. "Seriously?"
A dark cloud of uncertainty floated in the air between them, but it didn't last long. Her lips slowly curled into a puckered smile. "No-"
He didn't know whether he wanted to return her smile or scowl at her. "I can't believe I bought that."
"You should have seen your face," she said with a chuckle followed by a dumbfounded expression. "Wha? Seriously?"
"Shut up!" He laughed. "It could happen! Stranger things than that are going on."
The phone rang, startling them both. Jon answered it. "Hello?" he said, turning so Canary could see his lips.
"Your limo is here, sir."
A Limo? Nice. "We'll be right down."
"I will let your driver know."
"Thanks."
The phone made a static click.
"Castle sent a limo for us. I guess it's time to go."
"Your voices are okay with you bringing me?"
He smiled. "If they're not, they’re in for a fight."
Her eyes gleamed. "Aw. You always say the nicest things."
He still had questions about Jakson's motivation for sending Canary to him, but they could wait.
She was with him, and that was all that mattered.
Chapter 11
David ran back to the yard and found the door of his car open, but no one inside. The door to the house was also open. He could hear Emily crying. He climbed into the car and turned the key. It only clicked.
"Please. Please! No!" He twisted again, but there was only clicking. "Come ON!" He twisted again and again, but it was no use. The car was dead. "Are you kidding me!" He gripped the steering wheel with all his strength, roared out a guttural noise from the depths of his anguish, then jumped out and ran into the house to call the police.
But Sharon had beaten him to it. "Yes," she said frantically into the phone. "No. Just now. They just took him." She listened. "Yes. Right in front of our house! It was a red car." She looke
d at David with wild eyes. "Did you see the plate?"
"No. It was too far away." He looked over and saw Emily curled up on the far side of the couch, shivering and crying. He went and scooped her into his lap. "It's okay, sweetie. Everything’s going to be okay," he said, trying to keep his voice even. Her whole body trembled with fear.
"What was the make and model of the car?" said Sharon, the phone still pressed firmly to her ear. "Did you get a look at it?"
"It was a red four-door. I don't know what kind." He gritted his teeth, frustrated with his complete lack of automobile knowledge.
She relayed the information.
David hugged Emily tighter. She had stopped crying, but was still shivering in his arms. "It's okay, Em. Your brother will be safe. The messages would have warned us if anything bad was going to happen to him. It's just scary not knowing, but it will be all right. God will protect him."
She sat in his lap without a peep. One of her soft little hands pinched and rubbed the hair on his forearm nervously while the knuckles of the other pressed firmly against her lips. Quakes rippled through her at random intervals.
"Okay. Thank you." Sharon put the phone down on the counter. "They said they would send someone right over." She came and crouched down. "Em, it’s all right, honey. It’s..." Tears began to trickle down. The shock was beginning to wear off, and seeing her daughter so frightened and vulnerable was too much. "We're going to get through this," she said, half choking. Her chin wrinkled as she turned her cheek toward them, attempting to regain control of her erupting emotions.
"He's safe, Sharon. We have to believe it will be like everything else that has happened."
She pulled in a shuddering breath. "I know. I know."
David set his jaw and forced his own emotion back down into his belly. It was hard to see his family so broken, but he had to be strong for them. They needed him to be strong. "He'll be safe until we find him." He gripped her arm. "We’ll find him."
She still couldn't look at him. Her eyes scanned the floor now as she panted softly. Suddenly the pained expression slid off Sharon's face and was replaced by something else, something neutral. She turned toward the coffee table and began sifting through magazines.
"What are you doing?"
"This is how he spoke to me," she said, "from the magazines." She had a home improvement magazine opened and was already moving her trembling finger down through the lines of text. She scanned to the bottom and flipped the page. Then scanned and flipped the next. And the next. Page after page flipped by but she remained silent. With each page her desperation increased until she was hardly making it through a page before flipping.
David slid Emily to the couch and knelt behind Sharon. "We can't force it."
She continued to flip more and more violently.
"Sharon. The messages will come."
She slapped the cover down and shook the table. "I can't wait for them to come, David! I can't!"
"I understand what you're feeling. You know I do."
"I can't do this." She shrunk into his arms. "I can't."
He gripped her tightly and let her cry. What could he say? There were no words that would comfort her. All he could do was hope that they would both grow stronger with each trial and learn to trust with such conviction that doubt could no longer inflict such pain. They both knew full well that the messages would come, and when they did, they would be one hundred percent accurate. They also knew that he would not let their son die like this. He was watching over them. Protecting them. If they could believe with their whole heart that God had good planned for them, suffering would have no dominion. But they were not there yet. There were still too many questions unanswered. Why did God allow his best friend to die? Why did he allow Brad Knight to die? Was this different, or frighteningly similar?
They all grieved quietly until flickering lights appeared on the open front door. David stood and looked out the window. A policemen was walking up the steps toward the house. Sharon gripped Emily by the hand and they all went to the door to meet him.
David caught Sharon by the arm. "I'm going to make a call, okay?"
She nodded stiffly and turned to face the officer.
David left them, grabbed the phone, and went into the kitchen. With one motion he pulled the entire contents of his right pocket out and laid it on the kitchen table. In the pile was the card Agent Collins had given him. The messages were silent, but that didn't mean David had to sit on his hands.
He punched the number in, and faster than he expected a voice answered. "Hello. Collins."
"Agent Collins, this is David Chance."
"Yes. I know." There was a sound of furious clicking in the background.
David didn't bother with pleasantries. "They took my son, just now, in front of my house. Sharon's talking to the police, but can you help?"
"What time was he taken?"
He looked at the clock. "Around 8:25"
"Kay. Give me a second."
"Aren't you going to ask what kind of vehicle and what color it was?"
"I already know about the red car, David. I have the scanner transcript in front of me and I'm downloading the satellite record for your house."
"You can grab a satellite recording of someone's house?"
"No. Just yours," he said bluntly. "We had a credible lead that you or your family would be the next target, so we put surveillance on you until we could get units there."
"A lead? From who?"
"Let's just say we have a sympathizer within the enemy's ranks, and he fed us some actionable intel."
A sympathizer within the enemy's ranks? That was an interesting choice of words.
"Here we go," he said, "It was a Toyota Corolla, and it headed toward downtown. I'll have our tech team trace it with Sat and street cams and start heading your way."
David felt a rush of relief. "I can't thank you enough."
"All right. I'll be there in a few."
"Okay."
Sharon entered the kitchen. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide and desperate.
David set the phone down. "What did the police say?"
Her voice came out as a shaky whisper. "David..."
"Shut up!" said a voice behind her.
Sharon winced. Emily clung to her leg, tears flowing. Behind them, the officer appeared with his gun drawn. "Sit down!" he said, stabbing it into her shoulder. The pain on Sharon's face caused a reaction in David. He jolted forward, but the gun swung in his direction, the dark hole in the tip of the barrel caused him to freeze. "You, too! Sit!" David shot Sharon a look as she guided Emily over to the kitchen table. He could see her struggling to contain her fear, for Emily's sake. "SIT!" said the officer again. They sat next to each other. Emily climbed into her mother's lap and curled up, like a quivering worm. The officer stood, motionless in the doorway to the kitchen, staring with lifeless eyes. His handgun dangled by his thigh.
"Why are you doing this?" said Sharon, her voice shaking.
There was no response. He stood, as if waiting for an order to be given. Was he sent to execute them? If so, why kidnap Ben?"
Emily's sobbing filled the dead space.
David looked at the man's blank and controlled expression. Was he acting on his own will or being controlled? "Are you- one of them?" he said, cautiously.
The officer stayed fixed and unflinching.
"Did you take our son? Is that why you're here?"
"Shut up," said the officer with a burst, then his face returned to its still contemplation.
Sharon hugged Emily tighter. "What's going on, David?" she whispered. "Is he one of them?"
The officer's head suddenly cocked at an unnatural angle, and his voice took on a mysterious quality, like the voice of the captain when he had spoken his threat to Agent Collins. "Authority has been given to me to take from you everything you hold dear." His sinister eyes snapped to Sharon.
"Oh, God, David. He's going to kill us."
David reached out and laid
his hand on her arm as she gripped Emily tighter. "No. God wouldn't allow it."
"God!" said the officer violently. "Your God has abandoned you!" His voice blasted through David's body with the force of a hurricane wind.
Was it true? Had he failed so badly that God had given up on him?
"I could put a hole in your pretty wife. Would you like to see that?"
David's teeth ground together.
"Or torture this pretty little girl of yours."
Emily squealed.
"Okay! OKAY!" screamed David, throwing his hands out, as if they could stop the bullets from reaching his wife and daughter. "Stop! Just stop! I'll do whatever you want."
The officer's head cocked the other way. "We want you to suffer."
So that was it? They wanted to hurt him for all of his meddling? And God was allowing it to happen? Without a blink, they were being turned over to these monsters as so much worthless garbage?
The word, "NO!" erupted from deep inside him, setting fire to every synapse in his brain. It felt like one of the messages. It had the same undeniable resonance of truth, but was it a message? His eyes hadn't peeled the word off of anything around him, but it felt the same as if he had. The boil in his gut intensified, and three more words erupted. "Not. EVER. Forsaken!"
"David..." whimpered Sharon.
"Get out!" said David with authority. "You have no dominion here!"
The officer stepped forward with inhuman speed and gripped David by the front of his shirt.
Sharon screamed.
"I cannot kill you," said the man, pressing the steel barrel into David's throat, "but I can maim you."
David shifted his position and looked the man in the eyes. "Then do it."
A snarl bent the man's lips.
"DO IT!" screamed David. "What's stopping you?!"
Sharon's panicked voice filled the room. "David! What are you doing?!"
He kept his eyes fixed on the officer. "Do it! Put a hole in my leg! Or my shoulder!" He offered his shoulder.
The officer shoved him back against the kitchen table, scowling. "How ‘bout your daughter?" he said, swinging the gun toward Emily's head.
Emily cowered in her mother’s arms, frozen in fear.
It was a bluff. It had to be. He couldn't hurt any of them. It was all a lie, and David wouldn't allow himself to fall prey to it. This was where he would draw the line. If God was on his side, what could these creatures do to him or his family? He felt the weakness leave his body as his eyes tracked from Emily's terrified expression, up the handgun, past the tightening finger to the man's eyes, which were not on his daughter, but on him. Watching. Examining.
Lies (The David Chance Series Book 3) Page 8