“Oh yeah, you’re real stable, aren’t you?” I chastised myself aloud.
I turned the face of the phone up and inspected the screen, fully expecting to see the words “Felicity Cell” in a blocky, liquid crystal font. Instead, I was greeted with the words “New Number” and a string of unfamiliar digits.
I stared at the display for a moment as the refrain began bleeping out again and then punched the center button and brought the device upward.
“Rowan Gant,” I said.
“It is about time you turned on your phone, Gant.” Eldon Porter’s voice issued from the speaker. “I have been trying to reach you for almost an hour now.”
“So sue me, asshole,” I replied.
“I don’t think so,” he replied. “I would rather just kill you.”
“Same here,” I shot back. “So shouldn’t you be talking to the hostage negotiator?”
“Agent McCoy bores me,” he remarked. “All give and take, I did for you, now you do for me. It is really very obvious that he does not see the point behind all of this.”
Each sentence chilled me even more than the frigid weather outside. His voice had returned to the flat, rehearsed tenor I had discussed with Agent Kavanaugh earlier. His sentences were overtly devoid of contractions and spoken with an air of self-anointed superiority. There was a purposeful calm about him-a frightening preparedness that struck me like a cold blade directly into my heart.
“And that point is?” I asked.
“I think you are well aware of that, Gant,” he replied.
“Yeah, just checking,” I quipped.
I knew from his tone there were literally no words from me that would keep him at bay. Not now. Not anymore. We were moving forward to the next phase.
I was wondering why the HNT hadn’t severed the connection by now. It took a few seconds for me to remember that this was the first time he had ever contacted me on my own cell, so it was a line they wouldn’t be monitoring.
Still, they knew about the two different cell phones he was using, so they should be on top of it, unless… A random idea flitted in from the left side of my brain to give me pause. If he had two cell phones, why couldn’t he have three? If he did, then chances were the HNT had no idea this call was even taking place.
“Well, whether he sees your point or not, he’s the only one who can negotiate with you,” I said. “So maybe I should just go get him.”
“I would not do that if I were you, Gant,” he answered coldly. “My negotiations with them are finished. This is between the two of us and no one else.”
My heart thumped in my throat, and I felt my adrenal gland begin pumping again. The waiting game had reached its end whether the FBI liked it or not, and it was all about to be over before they could turn to the next page in the playbook.
I was wrong. This wasn’t moving into the next phase. It was jumping directly to the end game.
I forced myself upward and barely missed clanging the back of my head on an equipment rack as I stumbled. I twisted to the side and started moving toward the back of the van. Agent Kavanaugh had said there would be someone right outside. My mind began racing, searching for a way to get that agent’s attention without tipping off Porter.
I realized I had to keep him talking, so I said the first thing that popped into my head. “So what did you call me for, Eldon?”
“I have a question for you, Gant,” he said.
“What’s that, Eldon?”
What I got back in reply was nothing short of a lit match pressed firmly against my already short fuse.
“How loud do you think I will be able to make your wife scream?”
CHAPTER 37:
I felt my face grow hot as repressed anger was released directly into my veins alongside the rushing adrenalin. My free hand balled into a solid fist, and at the same time, I heard the tight squeak of my skin against hard plastic as my other hand involuntarily attempted to crush the cell phone.
“You’re dead, Eldon,” I growled through clenched teeth. “Understand me? You are dead.”
“How bad do you want to kill me?” He spoke the question with the same nonchalance as someone asking for the correct time.
I snarled my retort, “I think I made that clear enough.”
He began his reply in an imperious voice. “Do you think you can get to me…”
“Not with cops everywhere,” I spat. “And you can bet that’s the only thing keeping you alive right now, you bastard.”
“I was not finished, Gant.”
“Ask me if I care.”
“You do.”
“I doubt it.”
“Now,” he began again. “What I was going to say is this: Do you think you can get to me before Miss Sullivan’s sentence has been duly and properly executed?”
His words struck me with as much force as a punch square to the jaw.
“You said this was between you and me!” I barked.
“Second floor, Gant. How fast are you?” he asked, then without waiting for an answer he pronounced, “Thou shalt not suffer a Witch to live.”
“Porter!” I shouted.
Stealth was no longer an issue. I bolted for the back of the van, and in my haste, my hand missed the latch on the door as I threw myself against it. The sound of my shoulder thudding against the metal struck first and was followed immediately by the physical jolt vibrating through my frame.
Desperation-induced clumsiness was doing everything in its power to impede my progress as I fumbled with the lever. I felt my hand connect and pushed heavily downward on the latch then leaned into the door once again.
Sound was buzzing in the earpiece of the phone the whole time. Porter’s self-righteous voice continued rattling against my eardrum with sickening clarity. “Wherefore, since you, Millicent Renee Sullivan, are fallen into the damned heresies of Witches…”
“He’s doing it!” I was screaming even as the door was beginning to open. “He’s getting ready to…”
The rest of the words caught in my throat as an icy blast of wind hit me in the face. The door was swinging wide in surrender to my attack, and my momentum kept me moving forward. My stomach leapt then fell with an odd, tickling sensation as a split second of weightlessness struck. It was only then I realized I had launched myself into nothingness. I felt myself pitching forward and began to flail my arms in an attempt to regain my balance, but it was too late. My exit was anything but graceful as I completely missed the step and stumbled down to the wet pavement.
I’m still not entirely certain which event in the quartet came first: me hitting the asphalt, the intense flash of light, the wildly screeching siren, or the deafening explosion. In retrospect, it didn’t really matter; they were all so close together that for all intents and purposes, they were one and the same.
The cell phone popped out of my hand and skittered a few feet away on the street as I rolled. Chaos was the only word I could use to describe the scene before me as everyone’s attention was directed away from the building. On the tiered parking lot above us, a squad car was warbling out every emergency tone in its arsenal of noises. Every source of illumination on the vehicle, from light bar to headlights, was flashing. The windshield was a shattered maze, and the driver’s side windows were completely missing. Smoke was rolling upward from the openings, and an orange glow was filling the passenger cabin.
I had absolutely no idea what had happened. My mind was paging through scenarios, attempting to wedge the few available pieces of the puzzle into place, but every picture I imagined seemed far from likely.
I scrambled across the slush for the cell phone and placed the wet device against my ear as soon as I clamped my hand on it. Though I had to strain to hear him over the background insanity, Porter’s voice was still bleeding from the earpiece with ominous portent, “…Have refused the medicine of your salvation, we have summoned…”
“NO!” I screamed.
I dragged myself up to my feet and wheeled around, looking for the f
ederal agent who was supposed to be posted outside the van but found no one. All attention was still focused on the bedlam surrounding the patrol car. I wheeled around, looking for anyone I could but again found not a soul anywhere nearby. Everyone seemed to be converging on the raucous patrol car.
“…away and seduced by a wicked spirit…” Porter continued.
I had heard these very words from him before, and I knew them well. The recitation was an official proclamation of Star’s guilt and final sentence. He would be following immediately with her execution. Even with the pomp and circumstance of the pronouncement, there would be no time to wait. He had already begun; she was going to be dead in less than a minute.
The dark, prophetic sensation that had been plaguing me was now a set of icy fingers clawing at my throat. I felt myself moving forward with deliberate intent. The doorway of the building seemed an almost unattainable objective in the distance, but it loomed clear in my sight, beckoning me.
By the time I took my fifth step, I was at a dead run.
“MISTER GANT!” I heard Agent Kavanaugh’s voice in the distance behind me, but I didn’t stop.
Figures I had not previously noticed were now coming out of the shadows as I barreled through the SWAT perimeter. These men had been the only ones not completely diverted from their mission by the insanity on the parking lot above. Still, they were staged at a distance from the entrance and focused on impending entry into the building. Whether by pure luck, the situation, or fate alone, I was yards ahead before I began to hear their shouts.
“GODDDAMIT, ROWAN!” I picked out Ben’s voice bellowing from within the jumble of others that were ordering me to stop.
My cell phone flew from my hand as my arms pumped in unison with my legs. I was starting to wheeze as cold air rushed in and out of my lungs. I wasn’t in the best of shape to begin with, but the bulk of the flak vest and my coat weren’t helping either.
My knees were complaining, and a sharp chill was biting into my leg where my pants had soaked up wetness from the slush on the street. I ignored the pains that were vying for attention throughout my body and pushed myself forward. I could hear the clamor of footsteps behind me and felt a momentary wave of relief. I couldn’t stop to tell anyone what was happening, but if they followed me in, that would be good enough.
I launched myself over the low curb and on my first stride was across the narrow sidewalk. With far more agility than I had displayed exiting the van, I hit the low stairs and propelled myself past two of the three and directly onto the landing. I threw a forearm up in front of my face and allowed the inertia I had built up to coil into my body as I hit the door.
The barrier was already unlatched, and the force with which I struck caused it to fling wide, impact an interior wall, then bounce back. I thrust my arm out to the side and caught the door before it could hammer back into my face then drove inward through the darkness.
I was already several steps into the building before I began to slow. I could hear a gathering commotion through the door behind me, but thus far I was the only one who had entered. Part of me wanted to wait for the SWAT team to catch up, but I knew that there was no time.
My labored breaths were grating in my ears and sending cold stabs through my chest. My heart was thumping out of control, and I could feel my right leg beginning to cramp. I winced at the pain and stumbled as I wandered through the dark interior.
Some small amount of light was streaming in from the door to my rear, but “small amount” was the operative phrase. It did little to illuminate the interior much beyond the first few feet. Porter had said second floor, but I had no idea how this building was laid out. Not to mention that it had been abandoned for Goddess knows how long.
Piles of unidentifiable debris announced themselves solely by feel as I thumped against and tripped over them. The one thing I could say for certain was that several of them were very hard.
My eyes were finally beginning to adjust to the darkness but not quickly enough for the given situation. I had no idea where the stairs were in this structure, and I still couldn’t see enough to find them. My throat began to constrict, and my chest felt tight as a wave of panic washed over me. I could hear the blood begin to rush in my ears and fear commenced stabbing me in the back with repeated thrusts of gelid anxiety.
“…Therefore, following in the footsteps of the blessed Apostle Paul…” Porter’s voice came to me as a distant echo.
I swallowed hard against the constriction in my throat and pushed forward, staggering through the darkness with my hands waving blindly in front of me. It took one half dozen steps and something hard biting into my shin before I careened into a cold wall.
The cramp in my leg blossomed, twisting the muscle down the back of my calf into a secure knot. Fiery agony shot through the appendage as my knee automatically bent in an attempt to hide from the onslaught.
I caught my breath and grunted as I fought to ignore the pain. I pushed myself away from the wall but left one hand against it for support as I limped along.
“PORTER! YOU SONOFABITCH!” I screamed.
My words glanced from the walls of the empty building, fading away on the heels of a sharp echo. An almost solemn silence followed the last audible reproduction of my voice, then after a measured beat, his voice began again.
“Millicent Renee Sullivan. By this our definitive sentence we drive you from the ecclesiastical court, and abandon you to…”
I had no idea exactly how long I had been in the building at this point. I assumed, however, based on his cadence and the words spoken, that it had only been a matter of seconds. My eyes had adjusted enough that I could now make out murky shapes but not much more. I twisted in place, looking frantically for a direction to go.
“…Secular court, that having you in its power now moderates its sentence of death against you…”
The echo of Porter’s voice bounced around the building, repeating itself into silence. I tried to follow the sound and found myself spinning in a confused circle, knowing only that it was coming from above.
I knew I couldn’t waste any more time. The sentence had been pronounced, and there was very little ceremony left before he carried out the execution. I whipped my head around and made a snap decision, picking a direction to try, in hopes that it would lead to what I sought. I took a quick look down and to the side, scanning for obstacles before pushing completely away from the wall.
Light flashed behind me, and I heard scrambling footsteps as the SWAT team entered. A momentary swath of white luminance cut across the wall then along the floor in front of me before swinging in the opposite direction. I assume it had come from one of their flashlights, but the source was moot. While it had been dimmed by distance, it was still enough to give me what I needed.
Pure luck, magick, divine guidance of The Ancients. I had no idea what was responsible. All I knew was that had I not been looking in the exact spot at the exact instant the light passed over, I would have missed the stairwell through the opening just ahead of me.
CHAPTER 38:
“HE’S ON THE SECOND FLOOR!” I screamed aloud to the SWAT team as I leapt forward, aiming myself at the opening.
I couldn’t be sure if they heard me or even saw me. I didn’t think about it until later, but my sudden movement could very easily have gotten me shot. Whoever, or whatever, was watching over me was apparently still on the job.
I ran my shoulder into the wall and groped for anything I could use to steady myself. My fingers fell against something hard and ice cold. When I tightened my hand, I recognized what I was gripping to be a solid metal handrail.
I turned my face up and saw a faint yellow glow, telling me there was some form of light ahead.
The cramp that was seizing the muscle in my right leg was still impeding my motion to the best of its ability as it caused me to list to the side. I threw my left arm out and began pulling myself hand over hand as I struggled up the littered stairwell.
“…And havi
ng before us the Holy Gospels that our judgment may proceed as from the countenance of God…” Porter’s ominous voice was becoming louder with every step I took.
“…By this sentence we cast you away as an impenitent heretic and sorceress.”
“PORTER!” I screamed again as I strained to make my way up the stairs.
I caught my right foot on the edge of a crumbling step and slipped to the side. I quickly grabbed the handrail and corrected for the misstep before tumbling back down.
“In accordance with the thirty second question we do hereby deliver you unto the power of our most Holy God. As you, Millicent Renee Sullivan, are damned in body and soul, your sentence on this day is death.”
I was only a few steps from the top when I heard a metallic squeak pierce the night. It came as a slow, repetitious noise, fading then sharply breaking through once again. I was certain I could hear a whimpering sob behind it.
“The sentence, to be executed immediately and without appeal in the manner of hanging.”
The high-pitched squeal made a violent increase in cadence, sounding like metal spinning quickly against metal, all while in desperate need of lubrication. There was a creaking noise in its wake, and I heard a choking gurgle.
The muscle in my leg was beginning to untie, and I pushed hard, taking the last two steps at once. I arced myself out through the doorway at the top and out onto the creaking wooden floor.
The light of countless candles stationed about the large room created glowing pockets in the darkness that spread illumination in toward center. Porter was standing near the center of the space, staring directly at me. Next to him, swinging two feet above the floor was Star, partially nude and streaked with blood. The noose was tightening around her neck, and even at this distance, I could see her kicking and bucking her body against the constriction.
Porter’s solemn voice hit my ears with absolute clarity. “May the Lord Jesus Christ have mercy upon her soul.”
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