by H. P. Bayne
“Ted!” a female voice shrieked. “Ted! Someone help him!”
Already the male corpse was back in service, returning to the open door and lurching inside. More screams, wails of the most ungodly terror Sully had ever heard. Someone ahead was trying to press their way out, into the hall, but Greta—or what was left of her—shoved him back.
“Lowell!” cried one man. “Shoot him again!”
Two more rounds fired. More screams. From this vantage point, Sully had no way of knowing what the bodies were doing, where they were positioned or who they were approaching. He’d need to move in if he wanted to keep the tension high.
Anyway, it was far past time he revealed himself.
He put his hood up and stepped forward, using Ned to propel Greta into the room in front of him. Entering the dimly lit room, he got his first glimpse at its occupants: four men and two women, plus a bound, gagged and bleeding Lachlan lying on the floor. All but one of the strangers were older, and Sully didn’t think he’d be out to lunch thinking these weren’t just members of the Circle, but its remaining council. One of the men was on the floor, clutching at his chest while, beside him, a woman knelt, hand on his shoulder but wide-eyed attention very much fixed on Sully.
Sully’s own focus, though, drifted elsewhere, to the man standing in the middle of the group, gun drawn.
Lowell Braddock.
Sully didn’t wait for Lowell to drag his eyes to him from the male corpse; he simply strode forward, pressing past Greta as he closed the distance to the man he’d once called his uncle. Lowell’s eyes snapped onto him, to the spot beneath the hood where Sully knew his eyes were in shadow.
“Stop this!” Lowell snapped. “Stop it, right now!”
Sully focused in on the gun, had Ned send it flying into a darkened corner of the large room. “You’re done giving orders, Lowell.” He peered around at the others. “All of you are done.”
One of the men stepped forward, hands held together as if in prayer. “Please. We came here to try to convince Lowell to end this. Reynold called us and warned us he’d be talking to the police. We thought perhaps we could convince Lowell to do the same.”
“You really expect me to believe that?” Sully said. “You knew. All of you knew. All this time, and you did nothing. Over and over, you turned a blind eye to murder, including that of a child. Nothing’s going to save you from that. Nothing.”
“Ted needs help,” the kneeling woman said. “I think he’s having a heart attack.”
The police were, by now, set up outside. No one would leave this building without running into an armed officer. Their arrests were imminent. One of the men Sully recognized as a provincial politician, a second as a local lawyer who frequently made the news. Both were about to have their careers ruined, their lives publicly shattered, might well face prison time. That would have to be good enough.
“Go,” Sully said. “All of you can go. But cut Lachlan loose first.” He returned his glare to Lowell. “But he stays.”
The woman on the floor released a sob and helped a shaky Ted to stand. One of the men knelt to free Lachlan. Then the whole lot of them—Lowell and Lachlan excluded—began the exodus, squeezing or rushing past Sully and the corpses as they fled the room. Sully waited, listening as their footsteps and panicked voices died away in the corridor and thundered up the stairs.
Lachlan rubbed at his wrists as he regarded Sully. “Help me up. Then bring Lowell and come with me.”
Sully stepped forward, keeping his eyes fixed to Lowell as he pulled Lachlan to his feet. Lachlan stood next to him a moment, as if ensuring he could keep his feet. Sully gave him a moment, until he felt him release his arm.
“Go, Lachlan.”
“Not without you.”
“You have to. I’ve been waiting a long time for this. I’m not leaving before it’s done.”
“Please. Don’t kill him. For the love of God, Sullivan, don’t. You’re not a killer. Don’t become one. He isn’t worth it. Let him face justice.”
More footsteps sounded in the hall, these sprinting toward rather than away from the room. Sully held back a groan, envisioning the police arriving before he had his chance to have this out with Lowell, to find some sort of peace for himself, for the others who’d paid the ultimate price for Lowell’s evil.
Sully didn’t turn, keeping Lowell in his sites. Lachlan provided the answer Sully needed.
“Desmond. Mara.”
Then Dez’s voice. “You okay, boss?”
“I’m fine. But you need to get your brother out of here.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Sully said.
“He’s right,” Mara said. “He isn’t. And neither are Dez and I. Go, Lachlan. Make sure none of those people who just ran out of here has a chance to weasel out of anything. We’ll see you soon.”
“Okay,” Lachlan said. “But please, don’t do anything to put yourselves behind bars with them, all right? Don’t kill this bastard.”
“I won’t kill him,” Sully said. “But I’m sure as hell going to consider making him beg me to.”
30
With Lachlan gone and the threat narrowed down now to just Lowell, Sully let the bodies drop. He didn’t need Ned now. This was between the four living people remaining in this room.
“I would strongly urge you to back away,” Lowell said. “One call from me, and Kayleigh’s dead. Kindra’s—”
“Out of commission,” Dez said. “And Kayleigh’s safe, with Eva and the police. They’re providing statements as we speak.”
“What do you mean, out of commission?”
“Don’t worry, she’s fine,” Dez said. “I just knocked her out. All I had to do was convince her to open the door to her office. Took her by surprise. She’ll have a goose-egg, maybe a concussion. Considering how badly I wanted to kill her, I’d say she got off light. Mind you, that’s nothing compared to what I want to do to you.” Dez ended the statement in a growl, one that had Lowell’s feigned confidence disappearing from his face.
“You won’t,” Lowell said. “You can’t. The police are right outside.”
Mara stepped forward, closing the distance to Lowell so Sully and Dez had to press closer, too, to stay at her back. “All these years, I’ve trusted you. I’ve loved you like you were my own sibling. You and Kindra. How could you?” She raised a hand, slapping him across the face, hard enough to snap his head to the side. “How could you, you bastard?”
Lowell rubbed at his cheek as he turned back to face her. “Mara, listen, I don’t know what these two have been telling you but—”
“It’s too late for that, Lowell,” Sully said. “Even now, Ray Dunsmore is selling you out. DNA’s being run on the blood found beneath Thackeray Schuster’s fingernails. You know damn well how that’s going to turn out.”
Thackeray stepped forward, pressing his badly beaten face close to Lowell’s. “You gave him one hell of a beating, Lowell, but he dished out a little, too, didn’t he? Probably took a while for the scratches to heal. Not quite the same thing as shooting people or drowning a small child, is it? Irony of the whole thing is that you screwed it up. All of you were wrong. The second son you’ve all been so terrified of, it wasn’t David Gerhardt or Aiden. It was me. It was me all along. And that prophesy is being fulfilled as we speak. The Circle’s done, Lowell. You’re done.”
Lowell shook his head. Denial showed in the movement, in the expression accompanying it. But there was also a mounting horror. “This isn’t happening.”
“Oh, it’s happening. You made it happen. For what? Money? Power? Prestige? To get ahead in the world and to keep yourself there, you sacrificed your own family in the worst way imaginable. You targeted them, you targeted others who got in your way, who threatened to expose you for what you are. All of it, all of your homicidal bullshit, it was for nothing. Because you’re exposed. And by the time the sun comes up, the entire world is going to know what a lying, scheming, murderous, evil bastard you really are.”
“Leave him alone!”
The cry from the door had Dez and Mara spinning in place. Not Sully, though. He saw it, the moment Lowell pulled a revolver—Lachlan’s revolver—from the small of his back and brought it around, levelling it at Dez’s belly.
Sully shouted Dez’s name, but knew it wouldn’t be enough. He was moving before the single word had finished leaving his lips, slamming into Dez, shoving him hard out of the way just as a deafening crack sounded.
Fire exploded in Sully’s middle as he ended up in Dez’s arms, held there, partially upright, as agony seared through him. Dez stared down into his eyes, and the mounting terror in his gaze was enough to convince Sully what had just happened wasn’t good.
From somewhere behind him, Mara screamed.
It was the last thing Sully heard before darkness stole over him.
He was still in the room, but he wasn’t in his body. He floated next to it, watching as Dez pumped at his chest, as Mara clutched his hand, shaking badly as she watched the hopeless CPR.
Because it was hopeless. Sully knew it.
So this was what death felt like.
Sully stared at Lowell, watched as he raised the gun and took aim at Dez’s head. Sully didn’t think, just pushed out. Ned reacted just as he would have were Sully still in his own body, knocking the revolver away, slamming Lowell back into the wall. Sully heard the man’s head thud hard against concrete, and he slumped, unconscious, to the floor.
Kindra ran toward him, moved to reach for one of the guns herself. Sully gave her similar treatment, rendering her senseless as well.
Keeping the pair of them in his sights—sights that had expanded beyond what his eyes could see—he returned his attention to Dez and his mom.
Mara had reached out a hand, and it rested, trembling, on Dez’s shoulder. “Dez—”
“No.”
“Dez, stop. He’s gone. Sweetie, he’s gone.”
Dez paused, long enough to look up at Mara through wild eyes. “No! He can’t be!” He turned his manic gaze on the air around him. “You hear me, Sully? You’re not dead! Get your ass back in your body and help me!”
He went back to pumping at Sully’s chest, gave it another half-minute before falling back, collapsing against the wall with a sob. Mara stepped over Sully’s body and gathered Dez into her arms. “Dez, sweetie.”
Dez clung to her. “He took my bullet, Mom. It was mine. He saved my life. I’m the big brother. I’m supposed to protect him.”
“It was never a one-way street,” Mara said. “You’ve always been there for each other. I know that. It’s okay. He’s with your dad and Aidy. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay.”
If Sully hadn’t left his heart behind in that blood-soaked body, it would be breaking. “It can’t end like this,” he said.
His father stepped forward and, for the first time since Flynn’s death, his words were audible.
“No. It can’t. You can’t come with us, Sully. Not yet.”
“But I’m dead. I can feel it. It’s like I’m not even connected to my body.”
Lucky appeared next to him, her fingers intertwining with his. “With anyone else, that would be true. But this is you. Your heart’s stopped beating, but your brain is still functioning. You can still get back in.”
“The bullet wound. It looks bad.”
Flynn raised a brow. “Oh, it’s bad, all right. But you’ve healed from one before. You can do it again. We can help. So can that thing you call Ned. You’ve got all kinds of extra energy here, son. Use us. Use us and get your mom and your brother out of here safely. And see to it Lowell and Kindra face justice. They both deserve to rot in prison, to stay alive long enough to see everything they worked for pulled out from under them. Be the reason for that, the way Harry foresaw.”
Harry stepped into view, inclining his head toward Sully. “It’s the prophesy. You’re the second son. It doesn’t end this way.”
“How does it end?”
Harry smiled. “Any way you want it to.”
Sully turned back to Flynn. He wanted to say so much, but now wasn’t the time. Lowell and Kindra were unconscious, but they wouldn’t stay that way. And Mara and Dez weren’t currently in a state to leave or, for that matter, to notice should Lowell awaken and reach for a gun. Sully used Ned to slide the weapons across the floor, closer to Dez and Mara. Dez looked over, but made no move just yet to reach for them, merely moaning something that sounded like Sully’s name.
Sully gazed back at his body. If he didn’t move now, his brain would soon die as well. Once that happened, there would be nothing left to climb back into, nothing left for the spirits to help heal.
“This isn’t going to be pleasant, is it?”
“Nope,” Harry said. “But it’s necessary if you’re going to end this.”
Sully didn’t respond, not in words. Instead, he turned, facing the group of spirits, this collection of loved ones and Lowell’s victims. The unasked question, the request for consent, had each of them stepping forward, stepping into him. This was different, so much different, from Thadeus. This was power of a different sort, one of love and light, pain and lost hopes. A spiritual yin-yang that felt as natural to him as life itself and yet held a power he’d never before felt. He peered up and, for the first time, saw Ned. It wasn’t human, possibly never had been. Rather it resembled a churning storm cloud—not black or white, but grey. It possessed a consciousness, but not an allegiance to light or dark. It knew only loyalty to power; Sully could use it for good or for evil.
He’d chosen good, would continue to choose good.
He drew Ned in, felt his energy—already bursting with the presence of several spirits—multiply tenfold.
It was time.
He turned, stared back down at his body a moment, long enough to silence the remaining doubt. Then he jumped back in.
Pain. A pain so intense he’d never be able to describe it with any accuracy. Blinding white light. The most searing heat and intense cold wrapped into one.
As a teenager, Sully had once fallen through the ice on a lake where he had been fishing with his dad and Dez. By the time they’d managed to pull him out, his flesh had gone numb. Gradually, as they’d driven him back into the city, heater blasting on full, feeling had returned. It had been like hundreds of tiny knives jabbing at him, as if his nerve endings were getting their revenge on him for his stupidity.
This felt like that, only a thousand times worse. Had he not been so determined to keep his surviving family safe and to ensure justice for those Lowell had already killed, Sully would have happily left well enough alone and accepted death.
The bullet had passed through part of his heart. He knew that because he felt it with keen agony as the frayed edges inside the organ pulled back together. The renewed pounding inside his chest was like a jackhammer, the flow of blood like lava. He wondered whether he would lose this new blood through one of the wounds in his flesh, but those had apparently already been healed. Blood moved through him now, setting its usual course through veins and arteries, supercharging his suffocating brain with the oxygen now filtering into his lungs. His breaths, he knew, were shallow and slow, but it was adequate, all he needed for now.
The pain began to fade as the most intense part of the healing completed. Awareness returned, the sort that reminded him of those brief moments between dream-state and waking in the morning.
He opened his eyes.
The spirits, all of them, were still inside him and he held them there for now as he took in the current situation outside himself.
A lot seemed to have happened between death and resurrection. Dez stood, squared off against Lowell, each holding a gun on the other.
“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Dez raged.
“Drop it, son.”
“I’m not your fucking son!”
Mara was at Dez’s side, although he seemed to be trying his best to keep her behind him. “Lowell, it’s over,” she said. “Put the gun down and giv
e yourself up. The police are right outside. You’re not getting out of here.”
“Oh, I’m getting out of here,” he said. “With you as a hostage, they’ll let me pass. Former deputy chief’s wife? They won’t take a chance with you. They’ll let me go. I’ve got a plane waiting. All I need is to get to it. After that, I’m out of here. I’m starting over somewhere. New identity, new life, money waiting for me in an offshore account.”
“You’ve got it all sorted,” Dez growled. “One problem. I’m not letting you walk out of here with her.”
Lowell tilted his head. “Oh, I know that. That’s why you’re about to join your brother.”
Sully moved, but not in a way he ever had before. Limbs still stiff, he used Ned to propel him upward, straight off the floor to standing. Upright, he hovered more than stood, feet not fully against the floor as Ned took the bulk of his weight.
The movement drew four sets of startled eyes and Sully took advantage of Lowell’s horrified distraction, hammering at his arms so the gun flew free, clattering away, as before, into the shadows. Lowell responded quick, as did Kindra, the pair of them diving to the floor and scrambling for the weapon.
Using more of Ned’s seemingly boundless power, Sully seized both of them. He flung them back against a wall and held them there, a pair of squirming rag dolls in his psychic grasp.
“Sully?” Dez’s hushed voice, full of hope, sounded as Sully drifted past to position himself protectively in front of his living family members.
“Yeah, D,” he replied. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t need to. It was enough to draw a relieved burst of laughter from Dez and an emotion-filled sigh from Mara.
Sully moved to within two feet of Lowell and Kindra, close enough to smell the combination of sweat and Kindra’s usual perfume. “You’re leaving this room one of two ways: in our custody or dead. You choose.”