And she turns completely toward Gloria. Gloria quits moving. “I can see everything,” Liza explains. “Not the future, like you. For me, everything is in real time.”
Gloria watches her. Since I know Gloria was a badass squad leader with the military before she’d volunteered for NRD testing, I know she’s probably thinking of a plan. And so I do my part to help.
I try for Liza’s attention. “Jake was partis, wasn’t he?”
Liza smiles slowly. Something is happening. She holds up her finger and I think she’s about to snap again but it isn’t a snap. It’s wait for it.
“Do you feel that?” she asks.
When I don’t immediately answer, the rumble grows. The whole hotel vibrates and a few pictures rattle then clink off the wall.
“You’re doing that?” I ask.
“All of the partis are unique. Though from what I saw, you’re a bit behind the rest of us. Your gift is pathetically underdeveloped. It’s almost not worth killing you for.”
“I’m a slow learner,” I say, offended. Kill me, she wants to kill me.
“That is what your angel is for,” she says. “Stupid. Where is he?”
My angel. My angel. Gabriel.
“You have an angel?” I ask. I’m in disbelief. I don’t know why, I mean, Cindy saw Raphael, right? But Cindy’s angel had tried to get her killed—at least that’s what she said.
Liza bounces on the bed like a child. “But think about it. I’m saving you a lot of trouble. Do you really want to be the one who fights Caldwell? This way, I’ll do it for you. After I collect more power of course. It would be about the only way to take him on. He’s by far the most developed of us.”
“Aren’t you sweet,” I say. It’s important to remain nonplussed. Of course I am freaking out. I’m also trying to absorb everything she says. And I’m fairly certain she’s just given me a vital piece of information about my father. Caldwell is one of the partis. He has a power.
“My power is pathetic,” I say. “Why would you even want it?”
“It’s pathetic now,” she says. “But I’ll change that.”
My power is pretty pathetic compared to hers. And I am really surprised that I haven’t freaked and exploded this hotel room yet. But the more I think about it, the more I realize I’m not really that terrified. This is problematic and a hassle, but I’m not fearing for my life. Not yet anyway.
A soft knock at the door, like a secret knock with certain pauses makes Liza smile bigger.
“Hold that thought,” she says. But I can barely hold my lunch my heart is hammering so hard. Gabriel.
Liza moves to the side so a man can enter the room. He is Gloria’s age, or a little younger. As worried as I am about a man coming into the room, I’m more terrified by Gloria’s reaction.
She sits up straight. “Fuck.”
“Hey Gogo,” he says. It’s a nice voice, like Morgan Freeman. “It’s been awhile.”
He’s a black man a little darker than Gloria. He has short hair too, and nice looking cheekbones if you’re into that sort of thing. But his eyes are sinister and he hasn’t looked at me or Liza once. Clearly, he is here for Gloria.
“Say hello to my friend, Micah,” Liza says. “He’s going to keep Gloria company while you and I take a little walk.”
“Um, no. I’m not leaving her here with him.” I don’t even have to think about this.
“Oh well, then just kill her,” Liza says.
As if to illustrate this point, Micah with his massive whale fin hands grabbed each side of Gloria’s neck. He seems to know exactly where to position his fingers. Gloria keeps perfectly still, her nostrils flared in fury. I don’t know if this is instinct or years of military training.
“What? Wait!” I scream. I look at the man bent down into her face, his hands holding her whole throat. “Don’t hurt her.”
“If you don’t come for a walk with me, then we’ll just kill her now and ask you again.”
“My legs are pretty stiff. A walk sounds nice,” I say.
“Don’t go,” Gloria says.
“Are you worried?” Liza taunts.
“It isn’t you—,” Gloria begins but Micah tightens his hold. Cutting off her words.
“She can’t breathe,” I yell. God why won’t someone is this damn hotel hear me and come running? “You’re choking her!”
“Micah,” Liza warns. “We have a deal.”
Micah’s smile tightens but his hands relax. He still holds her face in his hands, almost like he will bend down and kiss her. Gloria doesn’t hesitate to pick up right where she left off. “—she has to worry about.”
Then she takes her eyes off of Micah long enough to give me a meaning glare. She’s trying to tell me something. It isn’t you she has to worry about—? God help me, I don’t know what she means. But Micah doesn’t look at me. In fact, it’s pretty creepy the way he stoops and stares into Gloria’s face without so much as a glance my way. If he isn’t worried about me or what I’m doing, then he’s confident I’m screwed. Lovely.
Liza kneels in front of me and starts to undo my binds, which turns out to be a curtain tie-back. But before I am completely free she says, “You’ll play nice or Micah will kill her. Do you understand?”
“Crystal.”
“And if I am not back in 20 minutes,” Liza says. “He will kill her.”
She grins and because she is so young, so girlish—it is terrifying. The last of the cloth falls away. She offers to help me up but instead I help myself by pulling up on the side of the bed. I even take the liberty of accidentally stepping on her foot as hard as I can.
“We’re going to have a little girl talk,” Liza says, patting Gloria’s cheek.
If I were Gloria I’d have bitten off her damn fingers, the snotty little shit. God I want to bite her but it isn’t an option. I have no idea how to use my powers on command and zapping the electronics in the room is hardly going to help us. And Liza will probably be quicker on the draw. All she has to do is snap.
“Micah tells me you two have plenty to catch up on while we’re gone,” Liza says. “Enjoy.”
Liza holds the door open for me, exposing the hallway behind her. I would give anything for a cleaning lady to come by and see us; Gloria tied to the desk chair and a man looming over her. But no one comes—and I guess Liza knew that, didn’t she? She could see through the walls after all.
I cast one last look at Gloria and she isn’t looking at Micah. She is looking at me. Don’t go. Her look pleads. Don’t go.
“Good luck,” I say. “I’ll be rooting for you.”
“And I for you,” she says, face grave.
I don’t know what kind of training this Micah has, but it is probably good training. After all, he knows Gloria and is somehow caught up in all this. And she’s traveled in very few circles. But at least with Liza gone, maybe Gloria can use one of her tricks to escape. I have a feeling—call it a hunch—that Micah isn’t partis himself. First of all because he is working with Liza. Secondly, he is aging.
Whatever happens, I hope Gloria wins—whatever battle comes after she breaks her binding. God, let her win.
“Just follow me and keep your mouth shut,” Liza says. “If you make any move or try to alert anyone, I will snap my fingers and—”
I drop to a dramatic tone. “And my world shall be bathed in darkness!”
Liza smiles. “You’re pretty funny.”
I can’t appreciate a compliment from a psychopath. “Does—did—Jake know about Micah?”
She snorts. “Jake didn’t even put up a fight. He was all about acceptance. I’m hoping you are more of a challenge. I need my practice before taking on Caldwell.”
He’s my father, you know. God, I want to say it. I want to just throw it out there and see what she makes of it. But now that she’s established herself as an enemy, she’ll have to beat any more information out of me. And let me just say I am still pissed that I’d come all this way, thinking she was just another o
ne of Caldwell’s victims then turned out to be just another jerk bent on killing me.
“How do you know Micah?” I ask. Better believe I’m sniffing for info.
“He’s an AMP. He’s been helping me search for the partis.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why would he help you?”
“We both want to take down Caldwell,” she says. “I can see the present and he can see the future. It’s a mutual partnership.”
An AMP like Gloria. An AMP who knows Gloria. There can’t be many of those.
Gloria’s voice pops up in my head. It isn’t you she has to worry about.
But she wasn’t talking about Micah. But who? Who else?
There is only one person I can think of—Caldwell.
Caldwell is here.
Ally
Nikki and I are lying in my bed. I’ve been crying about the dead boy for most of the day and she’s doing her best to comfort me, but little can be said or done.
My phone vibrates impatiently on the bedside nightstand.
“Gloria?” I asked reading the caller ID. “What’s up?”
“Please,” she croaks an address into the phone. “Please come get me.”
“What’s happened?”
“Please hurry,” Gloria insists. Silence stretches through the phone and I think she’s hung up. But then she speaks again. “I think I need a doctor.”
“Tell me where you are,” I say. I take in all the information and when she is finished I say, “I’m on my way. Sit tight.”
Nikki sits on the edge of my bed, slipping on her shoes and follows me into the living room. “What’s going on?”
“Something has happened to Gloria and Jess. I have to go.”
“I know you do,” she says. “Do you want company?”
My heart lurches. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Okay,” she says, but I can tell she doesn’t like this answer. She considers her next question carefully. “Where will you go?”
“Louisville.”
“That’s three hours away,” she says. Then she arches as eyebrow when she sees me heft the fat pug from his bed where he was sleeping and grab my keys. “You’re taking the dog?”
“I can’t leave him,” I say. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Lock up when you leave, okay?”
I’m already halfway down the hallway hauling the pug when she calls down the hallway after me. “Call me if you get into trouble.”
“Thanks!” I yell without looking back.
The drive is relatively quick, perhaps because I spend most of the trip in deep contemplation about all the horrible things that could have happened.
As I pull into the motel parking lot and park in the gravel lot outside a row of single-story red doors, I scan for 6. It’s in the middle of 4 and 8, not 5 and 7, this side of the building apparently designated to even numbers only. I leave Winston curled in a ball and snoring in the passenger seat.
I knock softly on the flaking red paint beneath the brass 6. “Gloria?”
I am about to say her name again when I hear the click of the deadbolt. The door cracks but I don’t see her.
I put one hand against the door and start to push it open slowly. “Gloria?”
“Come in and shut the door,” she says. “And do not scream when you see my face.”
I take what she says seriously. Jess, not Gloria, is the one who exaggerates. If Gloria is warning me, this is bad.
I tuck my hair behind ears and take a deep breath. I enter the room.
I’m careful not to look at her until I close the door completely behind me. If I scream involuntarily, perhaps it will muffle the sound.
Only after the lock clicks into place, and several thunderous heartbeats, do I look up. My eyes canvas the double beds in hideous floral prints, the grimy lamps and cheap wall art.
Then I see her.
And a small scream does press against the soft flesh of my throat but I swallow it down and cover my mouth with my hand to help muffle the sound.
Gloria is covered in blood. It’s drying, crusting around her eyes and mouth, crinkling because she moved that muscle beneath, blinked or frowned. Something. Her shirt is ripped on the shoulder like a large hand grabbed and tore at the fabric. Her face is swollen and purple on one side from repeated blows, I assume, as well as her busted lip. On her left cheek is a deep gash. That is where most of the blood has come from, what wet her shirt and jacket and made her look like she’d jumped in a giant bowl of strawberry syrup. But there is other damage I can’t quite place, but I do notice. The strange angle of her arm. The way one shoulder hangs in its socket.
“Jesus Christ,” I whisper. The tears welling in my eyes blur her face and I cannot see her. In a way, it is a blessing. I use this as an excuse to turn away and wipe my eyes. “Who did this to you?”
“Micah Delaney,” she says. Her voice is strange. Either from the gash to her cheek, or she bit her tongue. “He is Caldwell’s AMP. He’s the one who maneuvered us into Martin’s hands last year.”
Delaney. Jeremiah has a Delaney on the team. I need to remember this name and tell him about it.
“Where is Jesse?” I ask.
“She’s not dead, but—” Gloria looks up at me. “I’m sorry.”
I steady myself against the door. If he has not yet had the chance to, he will kill her. Instead I say, “We need to get you to a doctor. You can tell me what happened on the way.”
“Take me to Dr. York,” she says.
“You know it’s three hours back to Nashville,” I say.
“It needs to be him,” she replies.
“You’re sure?” I ask and it is a stupid question.
“As long as I can stretch out in the back,” she says. “I’ll be OK.”
“You are in luck because the front seat is taken,” I say and I try to push Jesse out of my mind. I need to focus on helping Gloria. I can’t let myself be blinded anymore. So I gather up Gloria, her shoes and her sketchbook and help her to the car. I give Winston a quick potty break and then help Gloria get situated in the back, giving her an emergency blanket from my trunk to cover herself. It isn’t until the car is in drive and pointed toward the interstate that I ask my questions.
She tells me about Liza and Micah. About escaping and hitchhiking to Louisville before hiding in the hotel room.
“Micah has been manipulating the girl,” Gloria says. “She doesn’t know he is working for Caldwell.”
“Do you think she killed Jesse?” I braced myself for the answer.
“No,” Gloria says. “I think Caldwell took them both.”
I feel something touch my shoulder and I look back to see Gloria offering me the sketchbook.
“Later,” I tell her. “If you say Caldwell has them I believe you.”
The last time Gloria showed me a picture of Jesse in trouble, it was a picture of her dying at the hands of Martin, another one of Caldwell’s henchmen. I don’t need to see what horrific fate Caldwell has planned for her this time. I don’t think I can bear it.
“We can get her back,” I say. But it doesn’t come across as confident as I hoped.
“Yes,” she says. “We have a chance.”
Six impossible things before breakfast, Alice. My brother used to love to make comparisons between me and the mythical Alice in Wonderland, but these days, I’m really beginning to feel like I live in Wonderland. After all, my list of impossible tasks for today alone far exceeds six.
“Son of a—,” Dr. York says. His hands come out of his lab coat and clutch his hips. His blue eyes are narrow and assessing. “When they said you refused anyone else, I didn’t imagine this was why.”
Gloria doesn’t reply. She looks like a little kid who just got into trouble—a bloody kid.
“Well I hope he— or she—looks worse,” Dr. York replies. He opens a drawer in the examination room and pulls out two latex gloves.
“He might still be unconscious,” Gloria says. It’s a delayed response, an a
ttempt at the give-and-take of normal conversation, which admittedly Gloria isn’t predisposed for.
This truth is further demonstrated by the fact she says nothing else for the ten minutes it takes Dr. York to examine her. He spends a considerable amount of time on her cheek and right shoulder. He examines the left forearm and then asks her to lie down and checks her abdomen.
“Are you pissing blood?” he asks.
“No.”
I’ve worked with Dr. York enough to know he is setting us up for a rant, the kind he often lavishes on Jesse.
“How much damage?” I ask and I know he is secretly thrilled by this inquiry because I have given him the platform for his launch.
“A dislocated shoulder, a broken forearm and probably a rib or two. This cheek will require at least eight stitches and there is no telling if you’ll have nerve damage though I suspect you got lucky there. Your facial muscles seem to still be working fine. I see no droop or loss of movement. It will scar. And you’ll require plastic surgery if you ever hope to fix it entirely.
“I’m not vain,” she says, and it is a flat, unfeeling voice.
“I need to put your shoulder back into place before I can turn you around and examine your kidneys and back for damage. And I’ll need X-rays to confirm the fractures. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me who caused this? It would be my pleasure to file charges.”
Again she doesn’t respond.
“I can keep a secret with the best of them,” Dr. York continues, trying a new angle. “But someone is going to notice this and ask questions. You best prepare for that. Where’s Jesse?”
We must have made faces. I know I flinched at the sound of Jesse’s name and I can only imagine that Gloria too, provided some tell for the doctor to pick up on. I didn’t see it myself because I looked away and focused on the cold white door with its sharp angles jutting from a thick door frame.
His eyes widen. “Where is she?”
Gloria won’t meet his gaze.
“We don’t know,” I finally say because Dr. York looks on the verge of real panic. “They were attacked and Jesse was taken.”
Dr. York touches his chest and it’s a gesture that I never want to see an elderly person do.
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