A Song of Redemption

by Lillian I Wolfe

  Taking my time, I made my way onto the stage and picked up my guitar, sliding the strap over my head and settling the instrument into a comfortable hold. Then I waited until Ferris finished. I'd enjoyed the instrument swap since I was usually on keyboards and Ferris on drums, but it felt odd to be so dressed up with the guitar in my hands.

  With a flourish and a run down the keys, Ferris finished the piece, and I jumped to the microphone. "Hello, we're back to entertain you a little more. How do you like this beautiful new hotel?"

  I waited for the applause, a few cheers, and other enthusiastic statements. Then, I went on, "Yeah, it's pretty stunning, isn't it? Well, here's a song about a hotel that's not nearly as nice." I launched into "Hotel California," and people really began to swing along with the music. A few started dancing, making their way toward the open floor area for that purpose.

  At the edge of the crowd, I spotted Janna, who watched the room with a grin from ear to ear on her face. She looked pleased, so everything must be going to schedule, I concluded.

  We continued playing, working through another three songs before we slowed it back down for a romantic number to encourage "the couples to get cuddly on the dance floor" as Ferris put it. It worked; numerous couples took the floor for a slow dance.

  I turned my eyes toward Ferris for a moment, then...

  Bang!

  I heard the sharp retort of gunfire, followed by another bang. And another.

  I'd begun to fold down to a smaller target at the first shot, but now I was on the floor and crawling toward the piano, trying to get some interference between me and whoever was firing. Ferris had already dived under it, and his head bobbed around, looking for the shooter.

  "Over there, near the end of the buffet," he shouted. I slid toward him and wiggled around to look where he pointed. At first, I didn't see the person, then got a glimpse of a stocky, middle-aged man—one of the business partners I'd spoken to earlier in the evening—standing there with the gun raised. He swung his arm around the room, firing randomly.

  What the hell? This didn't make any sense.

  I glimpsed Janna in the crowd of people who were trying to get out of the room. She fought the flow like a salmon swimming upstream and being pulled back. Her phone practically merged with her lips, and I could only guess she was calling security.

  Crack! Another bang.

  Suddenly, Janna was standing alone at the edge of the crowd as everyone else scattered. Mouth open and yelling at the madman at the other end, she began running toward the security alarm on the wall.

  I saw the gunman track her with the gun. Without thinking, I raised my hand, pinching my fingers into a duck beak point. The gun jerked, the retort of it firing exploded in the room at the same instant I cast the light blast toward him. In the next moments, the bullet struck Janna in the chest and, as if in slow motion, I saw her take a step or two, then stumble and fall to her knees, dropping to the floor as red blossomed over her champagne-colored dress.

  The blast zipped into the man, and I vaguely heard a shriek or a scream as I slid out from under the piano, sliding off the stage. Screaming Janna's name, I started running. At the same time, I glimpsed a black shadow zipping out of the executive who'd been firing.

  Crap! A yiaiwa!

  It was gone in less than two seconds leaving the gunman puddled on the ground, still shrieking. I ignored him and rushed to Janna.

  In shock, her eyes held a glazed look as I gaped in horror at the blood still oozing onto her dress and the floor. "No, no, no! Janna, no!" I cried out. "Someone call 911 and security. Hurry!" Then, to her, I pleaded, "Stay with me. Don't let go. Help is coming..."

  I pressed my right hand over the wound to try to stop the bleeding, while my other hand searched my dress for anything I could rip off to use as a compress against the wound. It just kept bleeding; her life pouring out through my fingers.

  I heard a gurgle of sound from her chest, and my heart seized. No, this couldn't be. I couldn't lose Janna. Her left hand inched toward mine, and she touched me with icy fingers.

  "Cold, Gilly. I'm cold..." she managed to gasp.

  "Janna, hang on. You have to hang on." I glanced up, looking for any emergency personnel, anyone who could help.

  Ferris slid onto the floor on the other side of her, ready to do CPR or mouth-to-mouth or whatever it might take to keep her alive. In a glance, he saw what I couldn't acknowledge. She was bleeding out fast, and I wasn't able to stop a thing. He bit his lower lip and touched my arm. "Baby..." His voice trailed off, unable to say any more as he saw the denial in my face.

  "No!" I moaned, trying to cover her with my body, my warmth. Tears rolled down my face, dropping onto her dress and blending into the blood.

  As Janna's fingers tapped on my hand, I turned my gaze to her pasty white face, seeing the life fading. "Not...your...fault, hunny," she gasped. "See you..."

  Her eyes went blank, a final gurgle from her lungs, and she was gone. I felt her leave. Felt the chilling brush as her spirit touched my cheek. I broke down then, oblivious to everything around me, seeing only the shell of the girl who had been my best friend for the past seventeen years.

  Vaguely, I registered that Ferris leaned over and pulled the lids down on her unseeing eyes. Bright blue eyes that had sparkled with her joy and blazed with anger sometimes. Eyes that had loved life. Now, they were without light, just dull blue devoid of her spirit.

  It was my fault. It was this royal mess of a demon war I was caught up in, and they'd struck at me again. Why Janna? She wasn't part of this. I started pounding the floor, hurling curses at God, and wanting to smash anyone who came near me.

  Ferris wrapped his arms around me, grabbing my arms and pressing them tightly against my chest, so he could pull me against him, rocking me back and forth with his head resting on my shoulder.

  "I'm sorry, baby. So sorry. It's not your fault, quit saying it is," he said gently into my ear.

  Eventually, the rocking calmed me some though I still half-sprawled over Janna, refusing to move. I'd quit cursing by the time the sheriff's deputy and the emergency team arrived. Through the veil of tears covering my eyes, I could see two EMT's with the man who'd done the shooting. I hadn't killed him, only shocked and stunned him. He looked confused and horrified at the carnage he'd caused. I could hear him crying over and over, "I didn't do this. I couldn't have done this. I don't remember anything..."

  For what it was worth, I believed him. The real killer was no longer in his body.

  A third EMT came over to us, gazed down at Janna and took a deep breath. He bent down, pressed his fingers against her throat, then caught the hand that lay askew on her other side, and felt for any sign of a pulse there. His flat expression told me he went through the motions for my benefit

  I wailed out my grief. "Can't you do something?"

  "I'm sorry," he said. He rose and motioned to another EMT to bring a gurney over. But he wasn't doing any CPR or anything else to revive her. She was dead. I knew it. I just couldn't face it.

  "No!" I cried out all over again. As if I thought he might be able to do some miracle thing and restart her heart, then save her. My tears erupted again. Clinging to Janna, my arms wrapped around her shoulders, heedless of the blood covering her.

  Ferris caught me again, his hands reaching to try to pull me loose as I clung even tighter. "Gillian, you have to let go," he insisted and continued to pull me away. Now a Sheriff's Deputy knelt on the other side and determinedly pried my fingers free of her shoulders.

  "Miss, you need to let go," he said in a firm voice. "We have to take care of her now. Let go and let your friend lead you away to get some help."

  I gazed at him, trying to focus my eyes on him, seeing the kind look in his face, and I relaxed my grip. Ferris used the moment and pulled me into his arms, lifting me up and carrying me away as I cried frantically.

  "I can't leave her," I said it over and over as he took me to a smaller room next to the ballroom that someone from the h
otel had opened up for emergency use.

  A different EMT came over to check on us. "Is she hurt?" he asked, seeing all the blood on my dress—Janna's dress.

  "No, she's just upset. Her best friend was a victim," Ferris told him. "It's a big shock."

  With a nod, the EMT checked my vitals even though I tried to wave him away. Vaguely, I recalled I'd seen a couple of people go down in the first hail of randomly fired bullets before the man had focused on Janna. "I'm all right. Help her. Help the others..."

  "Other EMTs are handling it," he said calmly. "Just take a few deep breaths and try to calm down. Your pulse is racing. Would you like some water?"

  I stared at him for a long moment, my thoughts confused. I needed to calm down? Was I irrational? I glanced at Ferris’s worried-looking face and saw him nod. "Yes... I guess."

  He left for a minute or so, then brought back a bottle of water, and I took it, sipping it hesitantly, but feeling my shattered nerves begin to settle a little as I drank and Ferris rubbed my shoulders. Nothing would ever take away the pain and the terrible vision that would now live forever in my mind.

  Ferris pulled up a chair and set it catty-corner, so he could face me without blocking my view. He wrapped his hands around mine, holding them steady and rubbing them with his thumbs. Through the tears, I could see the pain and concern in his gentle blue eyes. He was nearly crying as well, barely holding them back.

  Gradually, as my sobs stopped, I began to pull myself together. In the other room, people were helping the injured, taking photos of the scene, and some of them were getting Janna onto a gurney to take her away. I knew all this without seeing it, but it still tore me apart. I'd lost my best pal, my surrogate sister, my... My Janna.

  Perhaps I should have felt some consolation in knowing there was something beyond this life and that Janna was there now. But I didn't. I knew in the deepest reaches of my soul that she would be waiting for me in the transitional cemetery. She wouldn't go through without seeing me. Did that mean she was still in danger?

  "What are you thinking, babe?" Ferris asked in a soft voice. He still watched me like he thought I might break down again. He could be right.

  "Just trying to come to terms with it," I answered and took another sip of water as my voice felt so dry. "I can't believe this happened. Did you see?"

  He locked eyes with me. "I saw the man shooting wildly. I saw people get hit. I saw Janna go down. And I saw you cast a white light beam at him that made him scream. Is that what you're asking?"

  My lips trembled a bit, and I slowly shook my head. "Did you see the yiaiwa? The black shadow that left that man after I blasted him?"

  Ferris’s brows pulled together, a worried look entering his eyes. "No. I didn't see a black shadow. Are you sure?"

  "Absolutely. I saw it, and it looked at me when it paused for a moment, then it shot out of the room. It aimed for Janna. It came to send a message. This was my fault." My voice strained with the words, with the admission. Belatedly, I realized I should have set wards on the room, but I hadn’t thought the monsters would attack in a public place. Didn’t think they would come after me in such a vicious way. I should have known better. How many other people were hurt and possibly dying because I’d not taken precautions?

  "No, honey. You can't think like that. You didn't do it."

  "But it came for her because of me." I sniffled, needing a tissue again.

  Ferris pulled a mini-pack out of his pocket and handed me one.

  "Always prepared," I mumbled and wiped my nose. Then I registered what he'd said. "You saw the light blast?"

  "Yeah, I saw it. Hard to miss."

  Of course, he saw it. Gavin and Orielle could see it also. It wasn't invisible. Only the big black blob seemed to be unnoticeable. Great. That probably wasn't a good thing. How many people had seen me fire that bolt? At least, I didn't kill the host body.

  As if called by my worries about it, Moss and Hernandez strolled into the meeting room where I sat practically hyperventilating. Ferris leaned toward me. "Don't say anything until I can get a lawyer here." He started to turn away.

  I caught his arm, pulling him toward me. I wanted him to stay. "Wait. I'm not a suspect."

  The detectives came up and stopped in front of me. Moss stared at me, his eyes roving from my head down to my ankles, taking in the blood covering me. I suspected there might be some in my hair as well. I steeled myself to try to answer his questions, but I wasn't sure I could get through it without bursting into tears again. I already felt them welling in my eyes, and he hadn't said anything yet.

  "I'm sorry about your friend, Ms. Foster."

  His tone said he was sincere, but he was keeping it business. I nodded a short acknowledgment.

  "Me, too," Hernandez added. "We have the shooter in custody; an officer is taking him downtown."

  Moss cleared his throat, and his right hand slid into his right front pocket, out of sight. He did that when he was uneasy about something. "The man says he didn't do it. He doesn't remember a thing except for something burning and shocking him, then he bolted awake. He looks and sees chaos everywhere, and someone's telling him he shot people."

  Ferris sat back down by me, grabbed my hand, and gave it a squeeze.

  "Did you both see what happened?" Moss asked.

  "Uh huh," I said. "I saw him shoot my best friend." There went my voice. It cracked as I spoke, and the tears started to stream again.

  Ferris handed me another tissue and looked up at Moss. "Can this wait until tomorrow? I'd like to get her home and calmed down."

  Moss nodded. "I just have one question for tonight. Did either of you see a horizontal bolt of lightning shoot across the room from the stage area to the suspect?"

  "It might have been a reflection off the metal plate on her guitar," Ferris said. "She dropped it at an odd angle when she dove for the stage floor."

  "Uh huh," he answered, but I could tell he wasn't buying it. Others had told him what happened and they saw. They knew it came from me. How would I ever explain it? My tears flowed even more. And Ferris now perjured himself to try to cover for me.

  Moss pulled Hernandez aside to discuss something quietly, their voices not event hinting at carrying. They were going to take me down and book me. I knew it. Could they call it attempted murder when I was trying to stop a gunman? Maybe I should let Ferris call the lawyer.

  Hernandez turned his head to glance at me then resumed talking. I clutched Ferris’s hand as he tried to reassure me. "It'll be okay. They wouldn't believe the truth if you told them."

  He might be right, but both of them had heard strange stories from me, so that didn't necessarily hold true. Moss stepped back, seeming to have decided something, and Hernandez left the room to return to the ballroom.

  "Okay, here's what we need to do tonight. Hernandez is going to get one of our female deputies. She will take you to the ladies room, and you need to give her that dress you're wearing. It needs to go into evidence. We've got some coveralls you can put on. We're also going to check your fingers for any evidence of weapons fire—"

  I drew my breath to object.

  "Just to rule it out," he added before I spoke. "We need to go by the book for your protection as well as ours." He turned his gaze on Ferris. "Same thing for you on checking the hands." He drew a deep breath and shook his head as if to say not again. "After that, I'll let you go home. For the moment, you're a person of interest, so don't go bolting out of town. I'll call you tomorrow." He paused a moment then sighed. "Foster, I truly am sorry."

  As he turned away to resume his investigation in the ballroom, I buried my face against Ferris’s shoulder.

  "You're not giving him any statement without a lawyer to advise," he said. "Neither am I."

  "It makes us look guilty," I mumbled.

  "No, it protects us, babe. We need to do that. Some people might have seen that bolt of light. And that man screamed. It's a headline grabber."

  He was right. If I thought Gayle Trumbull
had been a problem before, it just got worse.

  And underneath it all, Janna was dead. I hadn't been able to save her.

  Chapter 5

  WAKING ON MONDAY MORNING after a restless night, I lay in my bed letting the fuzziness dissipate from my brain. In part, I wallowed in the conviction it had all been a bad dream, my worst nightmare, but not real. In no way could Janna be dead.

  Then my mind flashed on her limp, lifeless body half-laying in my lap with blood clotting on her exquisite champagne dress, flowing out in a wide circle around her heart. And I couldn’t block it out. No matter how much I wanted it to be a false memory, I knew it was real. Bolting upright, I gasped in air and wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, but barely managed a strangled-sounding, “No, dammit! No, no, no!”

  I heard hard-hitting footsteps pounding up the stairs. My head swiveled toward them, and I leaned to reach under the bed for my Ruger. My fingers touched the carpet on the floor but couldn’t feel the metal barrel or the handle where I would normally place it. Anxiously, I looked up as Ferris’s head came into view, and I let out a sigh of relief.

  “Gilly... are you okay?” he asked anxiously as his eyes came high enough to see me.

  My lips trembled as I shook my head. “No. How can I be when she’s gone?” I fought against the tears that wanted to fall again. The monsters killed her, and I needed anger more than sorrow. But right now, all I felt was the horrible weight of guilt and depression that it was my fault she was dead.

  He quickly crossed to me, sliding onto the bed and pulling me into his arms. “I know, babe. It’s hard to accept. I miss her, too. Digby sends his love and sympathy. He’s shaken with what happened.”

  “You told Dig?” I asked as I reached for a tissue to mop the flow from my eyes.

  He nodded.

  “That’s good, I guess. I mean, you guys knew her from school and—”

  Ferris’s face clouded a bit with a look of consternation, and I realized I’d understated it. Too late, I recalled that he’d dated Janna for almost three months in college after we’d broken up. Of course, he cared about her still. She wasn’t just my best friend. Oh, God, I needed to talk to her parents...and her brothers.