by Ren Hamilton
“So you have taken Mary’s name in vain then?”
“No Father. I have not.”
“Help me to understand, then. How is it that you have blasphemed the Blessed Virgin?”
She was beginning to sweat, hearing Joey’s words in her mind. I must first have your promise that you’ll never speak about this project. I need you to swear on it, Kelinda. The walls of the tiny cubical seemed to close in around her. She wanted to tell Father Bello everything. It would feel wonderful to let it all pour forth from her, the whole sordid tale. But her throat was constricting. “Father Bello, why don’t you just give me the worst penance you have.”
“Kelinda! I cannot give you penance if I do not know what it is you have done. You must confess your sins to God. These are God’s laws. I cannot bend them at will.”
“I know, Father. I’m sorry.” She tried to say the words. I was the miracle apparition on Saint Mary’s church. But the words wouldn’t pass through her lips. Instead, she said, “What’s the worst sin you’ve ever heard, Father Bello?”
“I suppose murder.”
“What sort of penance would you give for that?”
“My child! Have you committed murder?”
“No! Of course not.”
She heard Father Bello sigh. He was losing patience with her. “Kelinda, whatever this great sin is, you must give it to God. To hold onto this sin is to destroy your spirit.”
Her breathing had become shallow and she felt about to pass out. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of her dress. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
She ran out of the back door of the church, sandals slapping on the stone path. She was about to turn up the driveway toward the street when she bumped into someone and nearly fell over. The stranger grasped her arm to steady her.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t watching where…” The words caught in her throat as she looked into the large green eyes of the man she’d run into. It was the dark-haired stranger she’d seen at the Chinese restaurant, the one Patrick claimed had been following him. She gasped.
He smiled at her, still holding her elbow. He looked different now, clean and well-dressed in a pair of tan pants with a crisp white tee shirt. He was not wearing any shoes. His black hair was clean and shiny, falling in ringlets to his chin. His skin was slightly sunburned. The reddish-brown tint fell across his nose and cheekbones, exactly the way Shep tanned in the summer. And she realized now that he was attractive in that same unique way Shep was attractive. The resemblance was startling. Robin had always said Shep had no family. But still…those eyes. They could have been plucked right out of Shep’s head save for the black lashes that framed them.
Kelinda took a step back and pulled her arm away. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“Did you confess your sins, Kelinda?”
She went cold. “How do you know my name?”
“The chosen one would like to speak with you, Kelinda.” He spoke with a strange accent, like each word was an effort.
Kelinda winkled her nose. “The chosen one? Who is the chosen one?”
“Joey Duvaine is the chosen one.”
She flinched, remembering Patrick’s words at the restaurant. How do you know they’re following me? They could be following you. “How do you know Joey?”
The stranger gave her a quizzical look. “Joey Duvaine is the chosen one,” he said, as if this should explain everything.
Kelinda uttered a short laugh and stepped backward. “Well you tell him I said hello, but this is not a good time. I’ve got to go now.”
She turned and sprinted off through the side yard, determined to get away from the stranger as quickly as possible. She thought she was moving pretty fast until he caught her arm, whirling her about. She glared at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Let go of me, you freak!”
The stranger frowned, looking slightly hurt. “I told you. The chosen one wishes to speak with you. You must come with me.”
“I am going nowhere with you. I don’t even know you!”
“But you must. I have orders.”
Kelinda laughed. “Orders? What does that mean?”
“It means that I have no choice. And neither do you.”
Chapter Sixteen
Kelinda sat in silence as Allisto pulled the white van through the front gates and down the long, shrub-lined driveway toward the huge beach house. She was saving her anger for Joey. To release it on this stranger beside her would be a waste of rage. Of course, she was afraid to speak to the stranger now, after what she’d seen him do.
When he initially took hold of her outside the church, trying to drag her toward the van, she’d jammed her heel into his kneecap and sprinted toward the street. He’d cried out in pain, but caught up with her again. This time he gripped her arm and wouldn’t let go.
She’d thought about screaming for help, but before she could execute that plan, he’d clapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her back behind the neighboring post office. The windows of the building were dark, the business closed for the evening.
“Please do not fight me,” he’d said. “I do not wish to hurt you.”
She’d looked into his wide green eyes. He seemed distraught, even a little frightened, which was odd since he was the one attacking her. Her feet shuffled and kicked as he dragged her. “I told you, I have orders!” he said, frustration evident as he struggled with her. “If you’d just stop fighting…”
It was then that Kelinda kneed him in the crotch with every ounce of strength she could muster. She saw his eyes widen and his jaw drop as he grunted in agony. She’d expected his grip on her arm to loosen, but he held firm as she tried to twist away. Still holding her elbow, he doubled over, taking deep breaths. When he was able to straighten up again his eyes gleamed with rage, and she felt real fear for the first time.
The stranger extended his arm outward, pushing Kelinda as far away from his body as he could without letting go of her wrist. She stumbled with the action, which was like a poorly executed dance move. Once he’d forced her away from him, he turned his eyes toward a nearby mailbox. Sucking in a deep breath, the stranger let out a shriek that was like the cry of some giant prehistoric bird. With her free hand, she covered her right ear.
The mailbox shattered. Scraps of blue metal propelled through the air. Shredded streamers of white paper fluttered like confetti all around them. Shielding her head with her free arm, Kelinda stared in disbelief at what was left of the mailbox. What hadn’t shattered into the air appeared to be melting, bending like wax as it collapsed into itself. A flat slate of blue metal teeter-tottered over and landed with a metallic clang at her feet.
He’d turned to her then, looking embarrassed as tiny shreds of paper mail fell onto his black curls like snowflakes. “Please, Kelinda,” he said. “Please do not cause me pain or make me angry. I am having trouble…controlling myself. I need more practice. Do you understand?” Kelinda had nodded, though she did not understand, not at all. Regardless, she’d gone peaceably with the stranger after that, handing over her purse and her phone when he asked for them. “My name is Allisto,” he’d said cheerily when they got into the van, like they were going to be good friends now.
The Forest Bluffs house loomed before them like a polished mountain. She thought the acre of manicured lawn in front was impressive until they pulled up alongside the garage and she caught sight of the rolling green fields out back. She spotted a barrage of figures moving around out there, tending some sort of crop.
Allisto led her into the house through an entrance inside the garage, and she found herself walking through the biggest kitchen she’d ever seen. It had a high ceiling and a large tile island in the center. A set of glass sliding doors revealed a giant, wraparound deck. The deck looked out onto the back yard, which extended on to a sprawl of woods on one side, and a stretch of fields on the other. Another smaller house sat midway out alongside the rows of wheat, or whatever it was. Joey’s parents certainly
hadn’t been lacking in cash.
“This is home,” Allisto said. “If you will follow me please if I could take you up steps, I am to bring you to the chosen one please.”
Kelinda frowned at the back of Allisto’s head as she trailed him up a spiral staircase. He formed his sentences with great effort, and he walked like he was being held up by strings. Strange duck, whoever he was. Or whatever he was, she thought, remembering the exploding mailbox trick. She’d ordered her rational mind to believe a bomb had destroyed that mailbox, but part of her knew that was bull. She supposed she should be grateful it was the mailbox that got it and not her, as she’d been the true target of his anger.
On the second floor they came to a closed door. Allisto knocked once and opened it, gesturing for her to step inside. “Wait in here please. He will be with you short.”
Kelinda stepped into the room. It looked like a hotel suite, with a stylish sitting area, a vanity table and another small table with a set of chairs. The smaller table was decked out with candles, cloth napkins and silverware. A bottle of wine sat in the center with two glasses. Across the room under a large glass window was a king-sized bed with a canopy and a sheer flowing curtain draped over the sides. It looked like something a medieval queen would sleep on.
“This is my room,” a voice behind her said. She whirled around and inhaled sharply when she saw Joey standing in the doorway. She’d forgotten how painfully stunning he was, and forgave herself for being such a weakling all these years. “I thought we could talk in here if you don’t mind. This is the only place I can get any privacy.”
He stepped inside and closed the door. She stared, unable to move. Her original plan was to promptly punch him in the face, but as he walked toward her in a shifting of blue jeans and tanned flesh, she found that the fight had gone out of her. He was literally glowing. His skin, his eyes, his teeth, all gleamed as if lit from some inner candle. His hair had grown an inch or so since she’d seen him last, and it fell soft and sleek, curling in just above his cheekbones.
Something was very different and it wasn’t just the hair. She could feel his energy from across the room, his chemistry mingling with her own like electric fingers caressing her soul. She could almost taste him. Ashamed by her weakness, she struggled to cling to the anger that had fueled her on the ride over. “Well, well, well,” she said. “If it isn’t the chosen one. I’m looking forward to hearing your excuse for sending that freak of nature to manhandle me.”
Joey stopped, eyeing her thoughtfully, then he moved over to the little table and sat down. “I needed to speak with you,” he said.
“Ever hear of a phone?”
“Why don’t you have a seat?” He pushed the other chair out from the table with his foot.
“Why don’t you kiss my ass,” she said.
She allowed her anger to reign freely now, as it was the only thing combating the lust that threatened to melt her into a puddle of swoon. Joey stood and walked toward her, frowning. He stopped just before reaching her. “You’re upset.”
“What gave you that idea?”
He took another step and she instinctively stepped back. She could smell his spicy scent and it was making her dizzy. He reached out and stroked a strand of her hair. “I’m really sorry about bringing you here against your will. Shep was afraid that if I made direct contact with you, someone might see us and figure out you were the apparition. I wanted to contact you sooner, I swear, but I couldn’t take the chance. I’ve been having you followed, and I’m sorry. I just had to know you were all right.”
Joey made his face look pained, like he was about to cry. She remembered that face from his television interview. He’d used it to express remorse over losing Patrick’s friendship. This display was just as calculated.
“Don’t you mean you wanted to make sure I wouldn’t spill the beans about your phony miracle? Isn’t that why you had me followed, Joey? Isn’t that why you’re having Patrick followed too?”
Joey shook his head. “No. No, you’re wrong. It was only because I care for you.” He closed the gap between them and took her hand in his. “You believe me, don’t you?” He stared into her eyes, his thumb caressing the palm of her hand.
The closest Joey had ever come to touching her was a brotherly pat on the back, or a high five. Now he’d touched her twice in under a minute, intimately, as though it was something he’d always done. She struggled to concentrate on the anger. “You care for me? Is that why you scared the shit out of me by having that freak abduct me? Is that why you’ve been torturing Patrick? Because you care so much for him? Give me a break, Joey. You wanted to make sure we didn’t rat you out.”
Joey dropped her hand. “Do you think Patrick will come looking for you? When he finds out you’re here?” he asked. His tone was hopeful.
“What are you talking about?”
“Obrien,” he said. “He’s grown fond of you. He’d come out here if we had you, wouldn’t he?”
She took a step backward. “Had me? You don’t have me, Joey. You’ll never have me. If you’d please get my phone back from that Shep-looking monster that kidnapped me, I’d like to call for a ride now.”
Joey crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Kelinda, listen to me for a minute.” He took a step toward her and she automatically took a step back. He noticed. He looked down at her feet, then slowly lifted his eyes to meet hers. In mockery, he took another slow step forward. She took a step back. “Why are you doing that?” he asked.
“Doing what?”
“Backing up every time I come near you?”
She didn’t answer. He looked confidently amused as he took another step toward her. She held her ground, refusing to let him see her discomfort. He took a final step and she could feel his breath on her face. For years she’d dreamed of being this close to him, and while her body reacted with excitement, her mind told her to run for the door and keep running. “What kind of game are you playing, Joey?”
He smiled. “What do you mean?”
“That guy Allisto called you the chosen one. Are you starting to believe the crap people are saying about you? That you’re a prophet? Let me refresh your memory, oh great one. The miracle was a fake. You are a fake, Joey.”
“Messiahs are made, not born, Kelinda.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Ah, of course. You’re a nice Catholic girl, aren’t you? A true believer. What did you say to Father Bello? That is the priest you confessed to, isn’t it?”
“So that’s what this is about. You’re afraid I told the priest about you.”
“Did you?”
“Of course not.”
She struggled to sound indifferent, but her heart raced with fear. It was silly to feel threatened, she told herself. This was still Joey after all. It was Joey that she used to play kick ball and steal street signs with. It was Joey that used to eat worms on the playground. But she did feel threatened. What would Joey and Shep do if they thought she’d betrayed them?
“I believe you,” Joey said after a long silence. “I believe you said nothing to the priest.”
Relief washed through her, but she tried not to show it. “I don’t care what you believe. I’m going home now.”
“No you’re not.”
She laughed. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not going home. You’re going to stay here. With me. With us.”
She started to respond when he gripped her around the waist and pulled her into him. When he pressed his mouth against hers, she was overcome with a dizzying euphoria. Tiny specs of light danced across her closed eyelids. With the taste of his tongue came a drug-like rush. He disengaged, and she felt like he was ripping her soul out by breaking the kiss. She looked into his pale blue eyes, felt his breath tickle her lips, and her legs started to give out. “I feel funny,” she said.
“I know,” he whispered. “Don’t worry. You get used to it.” He kissed her again, catching her under her rear before she fell.
Chapter
Seventeen
The priest’s words repeated in Patrick’s mind like a taunting mantra. You never did a blood ceremony, did you? He examined the fading scar above his wrist. A ritual of some sort? It meant nothing. The priest was crazy. The FBI agent was crazy. Joey and Shep were crazy. But he knew everyone couldn’t be crazy. Something was going on and it was high time to stop ducking his head in the sand and figure it out.
He was certain his friends weren’t terrorists. Joey and Shep didn’t care about anything enough to terrorize it. And he refused to entertain the idea that they meant to harm anyone. He had to admit that doing Agent Litner’s bidding would one way or another give closure to the situation. He wanted to prove Agent Litner wrong, but that was just the persuasion tactic the guy was using, and Patrick hated to be manipulated. He was trapped.
He’d wanted to discuss the situation with Kelinda but she hadn’t returned his calls in days. At first he’d thought she was trying to ditch him, but ignoring his calls just wasn’t her style. He was reasonably sure that if Kelinda wanted him to take a hike, she would promptly tell him to do so. Now her phone had been disconnected and he was worried.
He finally decided to call Robin. He wasn’t looking forward to the call. He and Robin Duvaine had butted heads since the day they’d met, but at the moment he had nowhere else to turn but the blonde cyclone herself. Robin answered after three rings. “Hello?”
“Robin, hi. It’s Patrick.”
“Who?”
“Patrick. Patrick Obrien. Christ, am I that forgettable?”
“Oh. Obrien. What’s up?” Her usual spitfire tone was missing. She sounded forlorn and defeated.
“Robin, this is awkward, but have you seen Kelinda? I’ve been trying to get in touch with her for days, and now her phone’s been disconnected. Frankly, I’m a little concerned.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “Robin, are you still there?”
He heard her sigh. “Yeah. Oh man, I’m sorry Obrien. She didn’t tell you, did she? Unbelievable.”