One In A Million (The Millionth Trilogy Book 1)

by Tony Faggioli

  But there was something else about his presence; a sort of announced power, or proof of said power, that was beyond this world entirely. And it seemed to have rocked Parker to his core.

  “Oh my God!” Parker screamed, falling onto his back and shielding his eyes.

  There. That was it: the pretty close description of the man before them.

  Good for you, rookie, Napoleon thought. You got it.

  No more surprises. No more confusion. They were either both having the same hallucination or they were both looking at an angel. An angel of God who appeared like a man.

  Napoleon thought instantly of his grandmother. “A thin veil, that’s all that stands between us and the angels,” she had said that fateful day with the pigeons on the rooftop.

  Amen.

  Tears filled his eyes as he struggled to one knee in the driveway of the Brasco residence and repeated aloud what he’d said that day as a child: “Si, Abuela. Es cierto. Te creo.” Yes, Grandmother. I believe. It is true. I believe you.

  Then life had happened, with all its dull punches and sharp elbows, and he’d stopped believing.

  Even in awe, Napoleon still tried to grab hold of some sense of order. The Gray Man seemed to be there for a reason. He stepped forwards and looked at them intently before suddenly looking back to the house.

  The white wall behind him disappeared and he stood still a moment before glancing at Napoleon and, more intently it seemed, at Parker, whose fear of him seemed to pain The Gray Man somehow. Napoleon had forgotten about Mrs. Fasano entirely until The Gray Man looked lastly at her and nodded slightly, as if they’d met before.

  This seemed to awaken Napoleon’s sense of reason. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  No sooner had he asked the question, than the sound of a fight erupted from inside the house. Glass was shattering and there was yelling now.

  Parker rolled over to one side and curled up, holding his hands to his face like a frightened child, obviously in some state of shock. Napoleon tried to stand up, but couldn’t. The Gray Man looked at him and said firmly, “We cannot interfere.”

  “Kyle?” Tamara screamed as she moved towards the house.

  “No,” The Gray Man said. He waved his hand in her direction and she stopped cold, as if her body had betrayed her and she were helpless to push on.

  “What? No. He needs our help! What are you doing?”

  “Mrs. Fasano, Tamara, I know this is going to be hard for you to accept. But this is bigger than just one man; bigger than just your husband. He is fighting for so many more.”

  “What do you mean?” Amazingly, it was Parker again.

  “Things are in motion,” The Gray Man said, looking over his shoulder. “Things far beyond your jurisdiction, Detective.”

  The inside of the Brasco home began to erupt in color, mostly a soft blue that fluctuated and flashed like lightening.

  “It’s begun,” The Gray Man said, his shoulders slouching in concern as he put his hands in his pockets, like a coach struggling to watch the action.

  Napoleon finally stood, but made no attempt whatsoever to approach the house. This kind of noise and lightshow, especially in this neighborhood, would have his local counterparts here in no time anyway. But he noticed something else in The Gray Man’s face, something he never expected to see: worry.

  He saw movement behind him and realized Parker had made it to a standing position now as well.

  They all were facing the large bay window at the front of the house.

  “She is strong,” The Gray Man said softly. “Remember, Kyle, what I told you.”

  Napoleon had gone from stunned to shocked; Kyle Fasano had been the center of this entire thing from the beginning? “How…?” Napoleon asked.

  The Gray Man looked earnestly at Napoleon and asked. “Do you think pigeons, Detective Villa, are the only things that need saving?”

  Napoleon swallowed hard against the emotions that bloomed in his chest. “¡Dios mio!”

  The Gray Man nodded lovingly. “Yes, Napoleon. Yours and mine. Always and forever.”

  CHAPTER 34

  As he unleashed the whips, Kyle realized that he’d called forth a stronger level of his power; he was a little overwhelmed by the blue that was coursing from his arms and down the length of the whips.

  Victoria took two steps backwards at the sight of them.

  The whips were bouncing on the floor like fallen power lines. Kyle flung the one attached to his right hand out across the hall, but it was poorly aimed; it deflected off the wall nearest the den, and then bounced recklessly through the air… right towards the whip he snapped in his left hand.

  At his core he suddenly realized that this was a bad thing, that if the two whips joined together it would be too much power, too much—

  The whips shot down the walls and across the tiled floor in the hallway. He thought for a second he was going to get lucky, that they wouldn’t intersect, but just before hitting Victoria, they crossed, forming a blue “x,” and then everything exploded.

  He was thrust hard and headfirst into the corner of the wall nearest the den before he ricocheted off the opposite wall and down to the floor, the power of the explosion crushing the breath out of his lungs. Stunned, dizzy, horrified, he reached out one hand to the wall and climbed up it, like a weak-legged toddler, unsure of his ability to stand.

  He heard Sebastian screaming and Victoria yelling in some guttural, foreign language. She was going after him, Kyle sensed it, and he begged his eyes to correct themselves, to go from vibrating violently to fixed again so that he could get his bearings back.

  The world was a screeching echo and then… not. Clarity flooded him as the blue seemed to turn inward, into him, to heal him.

  To his astonishment, the explosion had not affected the hall and kitchen. But it had wounded Victoria; she was trying to get to Sebastian in the den but she was dragging one leg, which had a huge hole blown through the thigh.

  Kyle half-rushed, half-stumbled towards her, the effort blurring his vision to near nothingness before he ran headlong into her. They bounced off each other momentarily before he grabbed her in a bear hug.

  She turned on him instantly, clawing with her talons at his neck and shoulders like a panicked bird. Her black eyes glistening and raw…

  Wait… her black eyes. Like Caitlyn’s. The same Caitlyn who had been human enough to struggle internally back in that hotel room. Her eyes weren’t red, like all the demons that had come after him, but black. She could be saved. Which meant Victoria could be saved, too.

  Closing his eyes, Kyle told himself to remember what The Gray Man had said, but it was hard. His body was screaming for him to defend himself and his mind was searching for the words.

  God, please, what was it? What did he say, what…

  Find a way to remind her that she once loved you.

  That’s what The Gray Man had said. Yes. It made sense now. Sebastian. Victoria. Both. Maybe being a millionth meant that you tried to save everyone. Maybe you could. Maybe you couldn’t. But you had to try.

  He reached his mind back, unspooling it like fishing line, out and over a river of years, knowing he would find her; because you never really leave your first love and you never really forget them—you just simply move on, slinging the lessons that they taught you, of joy and love and vulnerability, over your shoulder, like so many fish.

  When he saw her there, tucked between his memories, she was at last his Victoria, the one no other boy or man would ever know, because each of us can be only one person, at one time, to each love we have.

  He saw Victoria, her hair blowing in the wind, as he lifted her up and spun her in the park, her brown Pearl Jam t-shirt with long tan sleeves soft and slippery in his hands, her eyes looking up to the sweet blue sky, a chain around her neck with a small wooden cross suspended from its length. Her lips were soft and her freckles dim under the brightness of the sun. It was the summer day that they’d picnicked in the park on Subway sandwiches
and Big Gulp Slurpees, and she’d dared him.

  Dared him to be silly and foolish.

  Dared him to show everyone at the park how much he loved her.

  For a moment Kyle felt guilty for the fullness of the memory, that it could still affect him so much, that it might be a betrayal of Tamara somehow. But no, it was okay. He was remembering Victoria as he once loved her, and even though he didn’t love her anymore he could still care for her, and care what had happened to her these past years that had led her to the darkness, to her current state of being, and now, for whatever reason, back into his arms.

  “Stop!” she screamed, pushing at him, writhing against the blue that was leaking out of him. “I don’t want to think about all of that. It hurts!”

  He held her close, an awkward hug now blossoming into a full embrace, the blood from his wounds dripping down his back, hot and sticky, as the power in him drained away. That was okay, too.

  Kyle glanced over at Sebastian; he was moaning and coming around.

  “Kyle! You let go of me!” The fear in her voice was palpable. The blue had evidently been bad enough for her, but Kyle realized that it was his memories, leaking out of him now, that were hurting her far worse.

  He stumbled forwards, closer to the portal, tightening his grip and wincing against the pain across his chest. He was bleeding, a lot, but that didn’t matter now. He was filling up with love, pure and untainted lost and regained, and he was using that love to heal whomever he could, including himself.

  He’d always held Victoria close in his heart, a tiny bit of love within a nest of regret.

  Now he understood why he’d been sent there. He’d been sent on this mission to deliver the only thing that could ever save Victoria: that tiny bit of love. A reminder that no love ever truly dies; it’s simply left behind, like an artifact that we can dig up later to discover something about ourselves.

  “Shhhh,” he said into her ear. “I’m here, Victoria. I’m here.”

  “Let me go! Let me go!” she screamed, pulling back briefly from him to slam her fists into his chest. “You never loved me. You just used me. I was nothing to you. It was all a lie!”

  The words tore into his heart. It had been a long time since Kyle had cried. Really cried. But his sadness at what she was saying was more than he could bear. “Stop it, Victoria. Please, stop. That’s not true and you know it.”

  “I hate you. I never loved you either! I didn’t!”

  He held her tight, but kept moving towards the portal, not because he wanted to but because he knew he had to—in case she didn’t surrender. It was just a few steps closer across the tiled floor before they might have to say goodbye forever.

  Again, he called to mind the real Victoria and forced his memories into her: Victoria in her yellow bikini on the beach during their first summer together. They shared a sauce sandwich from the deli on Second Street later that same day, making a mess of their faces as they laughed at their nervousness. Just days later, after a walk in the mall, they shared their first kiss, a soft, electric thing that filled him with so much hope for life. Electric. Electric blue.

  His heart and lungs began to expand in his chest, almost to the point of bursting. As they closed in on the edge of the portal Victoria reached out to either side, gripping at the edges of it, digging her claws in deep so she wouldn’t budge.

  “You silly, senseless idiot! Nothing you do is going to work. Nothing!”

  Still crying, he pushed harder against her grip, his cheek against hers now as he let the blue emanate and envelope them. She screamed, a heinous and bitter wail filled with rage, and struggled desperately against his grip.

  The memories still hadn’t been enough. He had to reach her somehow, someway, for this to work. But how? Whose love could she trust, from their days together? Whose love had been the purest? One she could never, in a million years, suspect?

  The answer came to him like a soft breeze on a still day.

  “Victoria? Do you remember Vinnie?”

  “Shut up!”

  “He still asks about you,” Kyle whispered with a smile.

  Kyle thought of his brother now, living in a private, assisted-living community with fellow autistic adults. He had friends now. And a life all his own. And he still had his crush.

  The screams coming from within the portal stopped and she stilled instantly in his arms.

  When she spoke it was in the soft, timid voice of youth.

  “Kyle?” she asked, sounding confused.

  The cheek against his grew soft, and he turned to look at her. The black eyes were gone, their metallic sheen washed away. Looking back at him, with curious eyes, was the face he remembered. His Victoria was back, but sadly, shockingly, only for a moment.

  The black exploded like ink from her pupils and Kyle felt a power from hell itself begin to flood her.

  There was no time to be sad, just time to act.

  He pushed forwards with all his weight and the blue around them erupted. It was the only option. The only way left to save the boy and fulfill his mission, because it was obvious now that he wasn’t going to be able to save Victoria too.

  Hugging her as tightly as he could, Kyle Fasano screamed in frustrated rage and pushed forwards with all his strength. Victoria’s grip finally gave way, and they fell headlong into the portal—together.

  Kyle Fasano had just enough time for one, final thought.

  A single word.

  Tamara.

  “NO!” The Gray Man screamed, moving towards the house suddenly.

  “What? What’s happening?” Tamara pleaded.

  The only other time she’d seen him he’d held an air of utter confidence, as if the power of faith not only filled him but sustained him. So an overwhelming panic sprang to her chest when she saw the look of utter pain and defeat that now crossed his face.

  “What just happened?” she screamed, taking a few steps towards him, knowing this might not be the smartest idea, before she felt Detective Parker pulling her back by the wrist. She spun around to yell at him, but was shocked by the look of disbelief painted on his face.

  They all stood in silence for a moment before The Gray Man began shaking his head. “This simply cannot be.”

  Tamara wanted to break free, to run into the house, to find Kyle.

  “There’s no use in it. He’s gone,” The Gray Man said, looking at her sadly, as if he’d read her mind.

  “What’re you talking about?” Tamara replied, her legs going weak. She looked to the house, to the door. She could make it if she ran full speed, she could… but it was no use. She sensed it. Maybe it was The Gray Man helping her to sense it, maybe it was just a wife’s intuition, but the door and the house beyond it were like a void, no longer important, because Kyle wasn’t there. At all.

  “Oh my God,” she cried, as she fell against Detective Parker and began to sob. “He’s dead!”

  “What?” Detective Napoleon said in shock.

  “This cannot be!” The Gray Man screamed, the force of his voice like a shock wave, flattening the tall grass, swaying the bushes between the hill and the house, and rattling the trees beyond. His face drew back in anguish as he looked up pleadingly to the sky. “Father? Why? He repented, Father, deeply. You know this! How, Father? How has your will alone not prevented this?”

  Detective Villa struggled to speak for a moment before he finally managed, “What’s going on? His wife deserves to know.”

  The Gray Man turned to Napoleon, then to Parker, and finally to Tamara. “Mrs. Fasano, you are a woman of faith.”

  It was a statement, not a question. But still, Tamara answered. “Yes.”

  “Then you know that not all things can be explained.”

  She pushed off Detective Parker and wiped her eyes. “This one has to be. It does!”

  The Gray Man sighed, and then nodded gently. “Your husband was chosen to save another soul after he forfeited his to sin. This happens every single day in your world; the saving and the sin
ning, the giving and the taking, the hurting and the helping. Sometimes your kind help each other. Sometimes my kind step in and help. But either way? It’s about salvation. It’s about the next life after this life, do you understand?”

  “And?”

  “He succeeded in saving the soul that was the object of his mission, that of a young man, the only person left there in that house now. But Kyle had to sacrifice himself to do so.”

  Tamara clenched her teeth as rage built against her pain. “No. That’s not fair. I want him back. You said he repented. To God, yes, and to me too.” The tears and sorrow came over her all at once. “He called me. He wrote me. He said he was sorry.”

  “Sometimes repentance isn’t enough,” Detective Villa suddenly spoke up. “Or prayer, or any of that stuff, sometimes evil just wins.”

  His words seemed to shock The Gray Man. “Do you honestly believe that, Villa?”

  “I don’t need to just believe it. I’ve seen it.”

  The Gray Man shook his head, stepped away from them and began to pace, back and forth, in short steps along the edge of the lawn, his head down. After a minute or so he stopped and, speaking to no one in particular, stated flatly, “I’m going after him.”

  “What?” Tamara asked incredulously. “Going where? Where is he?”

  He looked at her with conviction. “There’s no easy way to put this, Mrs. Fasano. I’m sorry. But your husband is in hell.”

  It was as if he’d slapped her across the face. Hard. She stumbled backwards, directly into Detective Parker’s arms, which evidently forced him out of his silence. “What’s going on here, man? This is bullshit. This is all crazy. Nap? Tell me what’s going on.”

  Napoleon said nothing.

  “I’m going after him,” The Gray Man continued. “I have to. You want me to, don’t you, Mrs. Fasano?”