Lilly abandoned her struggle to turn the weapon on the next man and instead poured energy into a few of the magazine bullets. A pair of loud, popping cracks split the room, and the man dropped the gun, clutching at his hand. The gun hit the ground, licking flames.
Lilly snuffed the fire and directed the energy into a telekinetic punch aimed at the shooter’s temple.
He crashed into the wall and crumpled, and the three remaining men exploded into wild motion.
The biggest of the three added the couch to the list of flipped furniture in his scramble for the door.
The one who’d been shot ran at Rachel with an ugly snarl, his good hand outstretched for her throat.
Lilly tripped him up with a scooted corner table and smashed a heavy decorative bowl over the back of his head. He groaned and shifted, and she slammed the bowl down again.
The last man had frozen halfway to the entryway. He stared at Rachel with shocked eyes, probably wondering whether he should finish the job or turn tail and run from the eleven year old girl who’d just laid out two of his friends without moving.
Lilly floated a dining room chair up beside her in silent threat, and the thug promptly went with option two.
Only when they were gone and she’d confirmed the two still lying on the floor weren’t about to regain their feet soon did Lilly give in to the channeling fatigue and let the chair fall.
She turned her focus inward. “Rachel? It’s mommy, sweetheart,” she crooned through their bond. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe now.”
But Rachel was too far gone now for Lilly to be sure she even heard her—essentially unconscious after the intensity of what she’d witnessed.
Something tugged at Lilly, distant and inevitable. Then again, stronger.
The vampires, she realized. They were trying to bring her back. Or she was dying the rest of the way.
Either way, time was running out.
A small sound tore her attention back to the room, and she had a handful of plates, knives, and dining room chairs all cocked in her telekinetic grip almost before she’d even thought about it.
Someone was there, treading quietly. She reached out and—
“Hello?”
Oh thank god. It was John.
“Robert?” he called from the entryway. “Rachel? Kath—”
“John.” She barely got the word out of Rachel’s mouth.
Every inch of Rachel’s poor body burned with channeling fatigue.
Footsteps. A sharp hiss of shocked breath at the edge of the living room. Then, “Rachel?!”
Rachel’s head slumped. Neither of them could hold on any longer. Rachel’s body was too shocked, and the pull for Lilly to return to her own was too strong.
But she needed to see him, needed to be sure.
“John,” she croaked.
Footsteps rushed around the corner and froze.
Lilly realized she was still holding half a dozen odd projectiles ready to strike. It must’ve been a bizarre sight on top of the ghastly mess in front of them. But John would understand it. He’d understand what was happening to Rachel, know how to help her.
More importantly, he could get her out of here before the vampires returned or sent more people to hurt her.
She gathered what strength she could and looked up to tell him.
He looked shaken and sick after the scene in the living room, but as he took in Rachel, it was care and concern that rose above everything else.
Lilly opened Rachel’s mouth to tell him.
Get her out, John. Get her out and don’t look back. Trust no one.
But she couldn’t seem to form the words. Couldn’t seem to move at all except to—
The world spun and winked out, and then Lilly was flying back across the city as if a switch had been thrown and the tight line drawing her back to her body had been freed to do its job.
Everything passed in a furious rush, and then she was back in the woods, watching through the filter of her extended senses as the vampires worked to resuscitate her without accidentally pressing a bit too hard and crushing her chest in.
It was almost funny, watching the vicious creatures who’d destroyed her life trying to nurse it back.
But they needed her alive—would stop at nothing to make it so.
And if they succeeded…
There was another yank, as if her body were silently calling her to return.
“Why isn’t this working?” the bearded vampire asked.
None of them answered, and he pushed on.
If they brought her back, Lilly would belong to them. She wouldn’t be able to resist them forever—for five minutes, even. Wouldn’t be able to stop them from taking control and making her try to rid them of the virus.
Whether she’d actually be able to succeed in that endeavor, she didn’t know. But it was a risk she couldn’t afford to take. Not when it could mean her becoming the thing that allowed these monsters to go on manipulating and killing and ruining more lives, more families, for what could apparently be a long, long time if the Master’s quip about mortals had been any hint. Not when Rachel was safe.
Not when, without her, the vampires would all be dead soon.
This was too big to walk away from, even if it killed her. Hell, they were going to kill her anyway once they were done with her. As callous as the Master clearly was toward human life, that seemed a guarantee.
So she loosened her grip on the world and allowed herself to drift away from the bond tethering mind and body.
It was peaceful, giving in. So peaceful. But there was just one more thing.
“I love you, Rachel.” She beamed the thought back the way she’d come with all of her might, hoping against hope that somehow her daughter would hear it, feel it—know it by some force beyond those of arcanism and natural law.
She held on to the thought as long as she could, willing it into the universe until even her extended senses ceased to be.
And finally, basking in the soft quiet of the woods and in the knowledge that Rachel was safe, Lilly let go.
13
John double-checked that the car’s AutoDrive was set to an urgency of 10 and tried to make sure his face wasn’t set to match. “No, it’s nothing serious,” he lied. “I just forgot to pick something up for class, and if I don’t get in before they close today, I’m in trouble tomorrow. Shouldn’t be later than 6. Again, I’m really sorry for the imposition, Jess.”
John was pretty sure he hadn’t said a single thing that could be considered funny, but that didn’t stop Jess from giving a little laugh on the other end of the comm call over at the daycare she ran.
“You couldn’t impose on me if you tried, John. And we wouldn’t want you getting in trouble…”
Was that a flirtatious pause? He absolutely did not have time to wonder.
“Well I really appreciate it all the same, Jess. I’ll see you soon.”
“It’s a date.”
Michael’s high laugh split the background. “Daddy doesn’t go on dates!” he cried from somewhere off screen.
Jess gave her own little laugh and turned toward the voice. “Oh no? Well, it’s just a silly thing I say sometimes.”
“I’ll see you soon, buddy,” John called trying to keep the heat in his cheeks from bleeding into his expression. All it took was one thought about what he was racing to find. “You be good for Ms. Lang, okay?”
The video feed shifted, and Michael looked up from his SmartBlocks to wave energetically. “Have fun on your date, Daddy!”
Jess moved the feed back to herself to show John one last smile and a wave, then she ended the call.
Merciful Father, why couldn’t he have chosen a simple life and gone in for occupying his time with someone like her? Or precisely her. God knew Jess had been throwing out the signs long enough, and on top of being fantastic with Michael, she was kind, and perfectly lovely.
And yet here he was racing across town like a madman at the beck and call of an old f
lame who’d never actually caught. But this wasn’t about Lilly, he reminded himself. Well, maybe a little, sure. But it was more than that.
He’d tried Robert’s comm after he’d spoken with Lilly. He’d tried her Net ID too for good measure. Both invalid.
That didn’t happen by accident. And old friend or not, John couldn’t just sit by knowing that Lilly’s family might be in danger.
He felt about as insane as apocalypse-prepping Myers even thinking it, but whatever Lilly had wandered into was serious. Of that much, he was sure—had been, really, since the look Lilly had given him at the end of their call.
That look had jarred him down to the core, full as it had been with desperation, regret, pain.
Finality.
He blew out a forceful breath and shook himself away from the thought. It was just nerves talking. That was it. He would be at Lilly’s house soon. He’d convey her message to Robert and offer his help in getting them out of the house to somewhere they could lie low until the air cleared on whatever was going on.
If it had just been John, he wouldn’t have thought twice about offering them shelter in his own home, but the last thing on earth he wanted to do was drag Michael anywhere near this situation.
Thank God Jess was so willing to accommodate.
Maybe after this was all over, he could express his gratitude properly and get back to the world where his biggest concern was simply making sure Michael was fed, dressed, and happy more often than not. But for now…
For what must’ve been the sixth or seventh time since he’d started the car, John checked to make sure the AutoDrive urgency level was set to 10—life or death emergency.
He could only hope he was being overly dramatic.
The car switched lanes to veer over to their exit from the thickening 76 traffic, and John’s thoughts drifted back to Lilly and the look that had haunted him since she’d ended the call.
He’d tried to call her back by that number, of course. Seven times, to be exact.
She hadn’t answered, though. Which might have simply meant that she didn’t want to.
Or that she couldn’t.
The wall of panic and fear tried to rise up again—panic that Lilly was in serious danger at that very moment, and fear that he might never again see her smile, hear her laugh. He did his best to tighten the straps he’d thrown over those feelings when he’d gotten into the car.
Lilly was counting on him to keep his head and do this thing for her. It was all he could do right now. Whatever else happened…
He shook the thought away and focused on his surroundings as the car turned off Kelly Drive and up Midvale.
Almost there.
Up the hill. Through the light. Come on. Come on.
Tension built in his chest with each passing second until, finally, he caught sight of Lilly’s house.
His stomach turned.
He wasn’t sure why at first. Was it something his subconscious picked up on? More likely, it was all in his head.
“Park to the right, there,” John told the car quietly.
The vehicle obediently slowed and angled to pull in between another compact smart car and a big old gas-guzzling truck.
It was in his head. The house looked fine and—
A gunshot boomed from the house, unmistakable as an electric shock straight to his heart.
He was ripping the car door open and hopping out before he’d even thought to tell the vehicle to stop. He nearly fell when it sensed the development and jolted to an automatic halt, but he scrambled on at the sharp crack of more gunfire.
There was a muffled crash inside. And another.
He’d only made it halfway across the street when the front door swung inward and someone came staggering out.
The guy had a rough look to him, but not as rough as the man who stumbled after him, heavily tattooed arms and neck on display past his vest.
At a glance, they looked like textbook gangsters, and the blood on their clothes froze John dead in his tracks.
They didn’t give him a second glance, just turned and fled down the hill with wild, frantic expressions plastered to their faces, almost as if they’d been scared off.
John watched them go in dumb silence for a long moment. Then he snapped back to his right mind and ran for the open door.
What the hell had those two been doing here? Had Robert managed to fight them off? The guy had been athletic once, sure, but he’d never struck John as the type to carry a gun or scare grown, hardened men witless.
And those two had clearly been scared of something.
John hopped the curb and charged up the stairs. He faltered a moment at the door, afraid of what he might find, but he pushed on anyways.
Inside, the house was deathly quiet.
He tread carefully across the tiled foyer, for some reason afraid to disrupt the silence.
“Hello?” he forced himself to say out loud. “Robert? Rachel? Kath—”
“John.”
The voice was small and weak, and it caught the air in John’s lungs.
He rushed around the corner and straight into a scene out of hell.
Shattered glass. Splintered, overturned furniture everywhere. And bodies. Too many bodies.
John doubled over and braced his hands on his knees, fighting the sudden urge to vomit.
Robert was dead. That much was instantly clear by the volume of blood and the extensive wounds. Kathryn was less bloody but equally motionless, her neck too twisted to be intact.
The two men sprawled to the sides of the room, Robert didn’t recognize, but they looked akin to the two who’d gone running out of the house a moment ago. Whether they were alive or dead, he couldn’t tell, but they were the last people he was concerned about right then.
“Rachel?!” he cried, his voice shaky.
“John.”
The voice came from just around the corner to the right, weaker than before.
John hurried forward and—
He gasped.
Rachel stood swaying in the center of the dining room, head bowed. Everything near her was floating as if gravity had simply ceased to exist in the area surrounding her. Plates, knives, even two chairs, all hovering in a bizarre stasis.
Her head snapped up at his entry, the movement nearly throwing her swaying into a full fall. Her eyes fixed on him with a look that reached straight inside and grabbed him by the heart.
For the briefest second, John could have sworn it was Lilly looking at him, and not her eleven year old daughter.
She opened her mouth to say something, looking as if it cost her a great effort.
Then the hovering dinnerware all fell to the floor as one, crashing and clattering and shattering against the wood floor, and Rachel swayed dangerously, her eyes losing focus.
John rushed forward and caught her as she collapsed.
“Rachel? Rachel?! Oh Jesus.” He leaned her gently against one knee and stuck his fingers to her throat.
She still had a pulse, weak as it felt.
“Rachel!” He gave her a gentle shake.
Nothing.
“Oh God.”
He looked at the bloody horror show in the living room and back to Rachel, unconscious in his arms.
“Oh God.”
What did he do? What in God’s name…
Ambulance. He had to get Rachel help. And the others, and—
He had his comm up and was reaching for the emergency call icon when Lilly’s words from earlier froze his finger.
No police, she’d said. Police can’t be trusted, can’t help.
They have people everywhere.
Insane. It was insane. And yet here he was at the scene of what looked like some kind of hired hit job. Robert and Kathryn were dead—possibly alongside two of their attackers.
So he tried the comm Lilly had called him from instead. Once. Twice. Three times.
No answer.
“Lilly,” he whispered to the silent room. “What do I do, Lill
y?”
But the only reply was the wail of a distant siren. He listened for a good half minute and had just decided it was coming closer when a second siren joined in from the other direction.
So much for the question of whether to call the police.
The real question was what he did now that someone else had.
There was the easy and sane option of simply waiting there until they arrived. Or, better yet, calling now to let them know they were going to need medical responders as well.
It was what any reasonable person would do in this situation, right?
But Lilly’s words whispered in the back of his head, begging him to ask the questions. How deep did this go? If they had people ready to invalidate Net IDs and send in hired killers, could he really risk letting the system take care of Rachel?
Then again, could he take care of her right now?
He checked her pulse again.
Steady. As was her breathing.
The fact that she’d fallen to the kitchen floor unconscious only moments ago didn’t inspire great confidence, but after what had just happened here, passing out wasn’t such an odd response. Plenty of people could have lost it from the shock alone, but then there’d been the rest of it—the arcane telekinesis he got the impression hadn’t been old hat for Rachel.
Lilly had told him once that the gift usually first surfaced following some kind of strong emotional event. She’d also told him that more than a few arcanists had passed out from moving too much energy at once. The pieces fit. Enough that he believed Rachel wasn’t in any immediate danger. Not from the inside, at least.
Outside, on the other hand, the sirens were getting closer.
Time to choose.
John blew out a long breath. “Shit.”
He glanced out at the small back yard, brought up his comm, and pinged the car to come around to the back street.
If he was going to behave like a maddened criminal, he’d better get it right. He doubted he’d make it very far if police arrived only to have whoever called them immediately crying that a black guy had snatched up an unconscious little white girl from the house—the house that was full of bodies, by the way—and run off in his car just before they’d arrived.
The Complete Harvesters Series Page 128
