Worth Dying for (A Dying for a Living Novel Book 5)

by Kory M. Shrum

  “Bloody hell, it’s me,” Gideon says, shaking blue fire off his hand.

  “Gee-zus,” I moan. “I almost shat myself.”

  “Keep your voice down,” he hisses. “There was a bloody reason why I didn’t want any of you screaming. We aren’t alone.”

  He looks up from his wounded hand and glares at me.

  “I’m not sorry,” I say. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people with superpowers. It was a stupid thing to do.”

  “Super stupid,” Maisie adds.

  “Fix it,” Gloria commands, shoving us all back against the wall so Gideon can fit into the control room.

  He wraps his hand in a black cloth from his pocket and shuts the door behind him. “Lock that.”

  “Did you drive into the barrier?” Ally asks.

  “That was Rachel,” Gideon says, ducking beneath the work table. “But Caldwell is also here, scouting.”

  “Scouting?”

  “I suspect he wants the lay of the land before he brings Georgia,” Gloria says.

  Gideon climbs out from under the desk and starts pounding commands into the keyboard. “Ah, no. I guess not. How about—ah no. Hmm. Well, maybe—”

  “Caldwell and Rachel are here?” I give Gloria a weary look. Who the hell are we going to deal with first? Would it have been too much to ask for one problem at a time? Of course it would.

  “And we’ve another problem as well,” Gideon says, his lips flattening to a thin line. The cameras flare to life, the snow fizzling away.

  We’re gifted with an encompassing view of the building. Every hallway, every room, everything is perfectly illuminated for us in black and white. It’s omniscience.

  In one screen, three car loads of men pile out with guns.

  “More company.” Gideon presses his finger to this monitor as if he could stamp out the men with a jab of his finger. “Damn.”

  “Idiot. You led them here,” I say. “Who are they?”

  “They belong to Caldwell.” Gideon runs a hand over his head. “They passed Rachel over hoping she would lead them back to you. He wanted me here as well. Now I know why. I’m an idiot for not realizing it before.”

  “I told you to come,” Gloria says.

  Gideon exhales. “I’m a liability rather than an ally.”

  “How?” Maisie asks.

  “Caldwell will puppet him if he can,” Gloria says, she’s rummaging through her bag. “We’re immune.”

  “I don’t have NRD. He could just as easily use me against any of you,” Ally adds.

  “He hasn’t before,” I say. “I feel like if he could use you against us, he would have done it by now.”

  Because the heart is pure. It is incorruptible, Gabriel whispers in my ear. I turn, expecting to see him in the room, but it’s only us. Weird.

  And this means what? I ask with my mind.

  You have the benefit of being both a heart and a partis.

  “There is a first time for everything,” Gloria warns.

  I blink at her trying to refocus my attention on the room. It’s hard with Gabriel pulling on me.

  “Jackson,” Gideon says, turning to Gloria. “Perhaps you shouldn’t give me anything dangerous, nonetheless.”

  She considers this warning. Then says, “Has he been in your head?”

  “Yes,” he freely admits. “When he had me in New York, he poked around in there liberally. He wanted to know all about Brinkley, what I knew about the girls, and my connections and capabilities. I believe he considered killing me outright.”

  “But he didn’t,” Gloria says, her eyes narrowing.

  Gideon arches an eyebrow. “He said, ‘waste not, want not’. It doesn’t change the fact that he must know about the chamber and our plan. We’ve lost the element of surprise.”

  “We will have to make up a new plan.”

  “There’s no time!” Ally cries.

  “We’ll wing it,” I say, trying to stay positive. And let’s be honest here, most of the time I’m winging it. “We can do this.”

  Ally rubs her forehead. “Jess, we worked on this plan for months. We—”

  “Think about every death replacement we’ve ever done,” I remind her. “We never knew how the person would die. There was no way to prepare for it. We only knew that it was coming. We made decisions as we had to make them—one at a time.”

  Her lips press into a thin line but at least she’s stopped arguing.

  “We know he will be here and we know we want to kill him, and that he will die,” I say. I look to Gloria for confirmation.

  “I saw him dead,” Gloria says and at last Ally’s shoulders relax.

  “We can do this,” I tell her. And I look to the others. I hope I sound inspirational and motivational and not like a desperate maniac. “We’ll make it up as we go. And we will win.”

  Because you’re not getting even one more day of my life, Caldwell.

  “First problem,” Gideon says, his accent particularly strong. “How do we keep him from using me to kill you?”

  “You recognize the feeling don’t you?” Gloria asks.

  “Why yes, I do. Intense pressure behind the eyes. Bees buzzing in my head.”

  She nods. “You’re no good to us disarmed. If you feel the pressure, the buzzing, you’ll have a few seconds before he seizes complete control. Use that time to disarm, and if you can’t or he won’t let you, then try to warn us.”

  Gideon gives her a weary look. “Don’t you think it’s better to tie me to the chair now?”

  “We need you,” she says without looking at him.

  Gideon’s face softens at her compliment. “I’m happy to be of service, Captain Jackson.” And even I hear the unspoken words. One last time.

  Gloria’s eyes are focused on the monitors. Caldwell’s goons slide down hallways in full tactical gear, guns up, hunting us. Rachel walks from room to room, peering in to see where we are hiding. And Caldwell, he’s the most difficult to track. He flits from one screen to another. Hopping from hallway to hallway on his own version of a hunt.

  “We’re out of time,” Gloria says, ejecting and reinserting the magazine of her gun. “Time to wing it.”

  Chapter 39

  Rachel

  This place is a maze. I cut another corner and find a hallway identical to the last. Same white tiles. Same walls: half white cinder blocks, half glass windows.

  I duck into four outbuildings before I find one with electricity. I have both eyes open for Caldwell, but he doesn’t show his face. Of course, I have the distinct impression Caldwell is playing with me.

  The idea that he doesn’t take me seriously ruffles my feathers. I am not weak. I have more power than his little brat and more control than Jessup. Sure, her power is flashier, but she hasn’t had her power for nearly as long as I have.

  Kill the brat and you’ll be even stronger, Uriel says in my mind. Kill the brat and Georgia may even confront you head on. You would be at an advantage, fighting her while she is emotional. I think of the last time I saw Georgia. I shoved her up into the ceiling before dropping her and crushing her leg. It had been easy enough. And now I am so much stronger.

  “Good idea,” I coo to Uriel. “I’ll kill the girl, then her mother. That will leave only me, Jessup and Caldwell. She’ll help me take him down and then—badda boom. It’s over.” His laughter echoes through my mind. If he can’t materialize it means Jesse or Maisie are close. Or Georgia and Caldwell.

  I look back over my shoulder as a strange feeling of being watched washes over me. There’s no one in sight. I turn back and there’s Caldwell. Without thinking, I shove him hard with my mind and he flies backward. I suck in a breath, waiting to see his body slam against the concrete wall, but he disappears midair.

  “Damn.” I break into a run. I don’t want to be in the exact same place should he rematerialize.

  As soon as I cut around the corner, there he is. He wraps both his hands around my throat and lifts me off the ground. He slams my body into the
wall, winding me. Stars dance in my vision as my back muscles seize in pain. Then he lifts me off my feet again so that I can see right over his head to the hallway stretching beyond him.

  In the flickering light, his woman saunters toward me. Her gaze afire with hate. I reach out and squeeze his heart. He drops me.

  I hit the ground hard and my vision wavers. A sharp pain shoots up my hip and into my chest. A man grunts, then the sound of screeching metal jerks my head up in time to see Gideon swing a pipe. Caldwell takes a step back and Gideon collapses over my body, covering me.

  I’m pinned beneath him looking at the ceiling tiles above. Fire bursts over us, flames shooting in Caldwell’s direction.

  “Stay down,” Gideon says into my ear.

  The flames shoot again in the same controlled wave and someone hoots and hollers. I lay beneath Gideon, feeling the weight of his body on mine. He smells like sweat and cinnamon gum. It’s hard to draw a breath beneath the full weight of him.

  The flames disappear, revealing the ceiling tiles again. Only then does Gideon get off of me, offering me a hand.

  I sit up, seeing Jesse and Maisie about ten feet away.

  “Woo!” Maisie says, laughing and jumping up and down. “It worked. We are so cool!”

  “How is that even possible?” I search Jessup’s face but find it blank and guarded.

  Because she is your enemy, Uriel reminds me.

  Maisie bounces on her toes. “Because we’ve got the channel thingy and now Jesse and I are totally awesome and if I just concentrate it goes exactly where we want it to!”

  “You were very slow at first,” Jessup gripes.

  “My mom was right there!” Maisie frowns. “I thought you said we wanted to scare them off not hurt them.”

  “So you have control because of some newfound connection?” Finally taking Gideon’s hand, I pull myself up to standing. I recall the strange sensation that had consumed me at Monroe’s death. Monroe grabbing ahold of me in my mind and demanding that I remember who my heart is.

  No.

  I feel apprehension. Reserve. Weary reluctance. All of these emotions play across Jessup’s face.

  “So you can control your fire now because of your connection to Maisie?” I ask again.

  “Yes!” Maisie says, giggling. “It’s awesome.”

  “Maisie,” Jessup warns. And her face hardens even more. Is she reading me as hard as I’m reading her?

  “Good to know.” Before the last word is even fully out of my mouth, I shove Gideon hard down one end of the hallway and push Jesse hard down the other. Both fly through the air away from me. The purple shimmer of Jesse’s shield flares to life before I hear her crash to the ground, so I know I have even less time.

  Maisie stands stunned in the middle of the hallway. Her eyes are round as half-dollars.

  “Come here,” I command, but I have no intention of waiting for her to comply. One yank and she’s pulled toward me down the hallway, kicking and screaming all the way.

  Chapter 40

  Jesse

  I hate flying. And by flying I mean sailing through the air into nothing, and then pinballing off the walls like a marble in an arcade game. I skid to a stop against a wall.

  I pull myself into a sitting position and find that I’m hip deep in a pile of limbs.

  Limbs.

  I suck in a breath as I pull myself off a severed leg here, a detached arm there. The blood dried a long time ago.

  I’m up and running before I can even be fully sure I’m okay. My legs are moving and the only pair of legs I’m dealing with are my own—so that’s certainly an improvement. Breath is coming in and out of my nose. I haven’t vomited on myself. Nor have I given over to the blind panic that tells me Caldwell is going to tear me limb from limb too, the second he has the chance. And then all that’s going to be left of me will be a little pile like the one I just crawled out of.

  My sneakers squeak on the tile as I try to recover the ground I lost. Rachel stands dramatically beneath an overhead light shining down on her black bob. It’s fallen forward, covering the unblemished side of her face. I knew she had a scar, but seeing it was different. It’s shiny in the harsh light. As she grins, it stretches into a ragged sneer.

  Rachel yanks Maisie off her feet and her sneer cracks open. Maisie cries out and clutches her chest. I shoot fire at her legs. Rachel drops Maisie and sidesteps the flames.

  “Cover your head!” I shout at her and fire bomb Rachel again. I’m trying to keep the fire off of Maisie, but I’d rather singe the kid’s hair than let Rachel hurt her worse. The worst—at least I hope—that’d give her is a flesh wound. Rachel intends to do more.

  Rachel ducks into the adjacent hallway for protection.

  I keep my shield up until I’m in front of Maisie, then I drop it long enough to grab ahold of the kid. In that momentary lapse, Rachel throws herself at me. Her body slams against the shield the moment I erect it again and the purple light wavers, shimmering under her assault.

  She screams like a wild animal, her face contorted in a rage I didn’t even know she was capable of.

  “Rachel!” I scream. “Get ahold of yourself!”

  Rachel falls back off my shield and places her hands on her hips. “Give me the girl, Jessup.”

  “Uh, no!” The shield remains fixed around us, but Maisie isn’t getting up. I speak to her without taking my eyes off Rachel. “Are you okay?”

  “I think I broke my ankle,” Maisie whispers. “It hurts so bad.”

  “Try to stand on it.”

  “Give me the girl!” Rachel screams again. Ceiling tiles are ripped from overhead and strewn about the hallway, several ricocheting off my shield.

  “No,” I say. “Come on. Pull yourself together.”

  Rachel screams and the glass from two rooms explodes.

  “Throw all the tantrums you want, but I’m not going to let you murder someone. She’s my sister. And you don’t want to hurt her. It’s the power talking. You’re juiced up. It’s like an addiction. You’ll get over it, like last time.”

  Rachel sneers, her laughter cold. With the scar along the side of her face, still red, it makes her look all the more broken. Unhinged. “Oh Jessup. How stupid can you be?”

  Well let’s see. I let a dead guy who used to be my handler convince me I should reason with a homicidal maniac, bring her back from the dark side with a little pep talk—so I think that makes me pretty stupid. I take a breath and try to figure out how to enter this conversation.

  “You’re a good person,” I say. It sounds so stupid.

  “Good doesn’t matter! Do you think the angels picked us because we’re good? Do you think they give a fuck about that? It’s about what needs to be done. When are you going to figure out there is no going back?” she snaps. “There is no happily ever after. You’re not going to save anyone from dying. You’re not going to protect the world. You’re going to die like the rest of us. Stop pretending like there’s another way. Give her to me.”

  “No,” I say and I realize I’m shaking. She shoves against my shield and it ripples, acknowledging her force, but it doesn’t give. Her face screws up with more anger and frustration. Debris, shards of plaster and concrete, broken glass start to whirl around me. It’s Gloria’s vision come to life.

  She intends to kill you, Gloria said. Now that I’m here it certainly looks like it. I feel stupid for arguing on Rachel’s behalf now. Gloria and Ally might be hiding in the control room now, watching all this, thinking told you so, dumb ass.

  I don’t know if killing the girl in New York actually made her stronger, or if she is drawing on our power the way Maisie and I did. Is the connection still there? Can Rachel feel me the way I can feel her? And if so, why aren’t I juiced up and crazy too?

  I protect you, Gabriel whispers through my mind. If Gabriel is still here, then Rachel must have access to Uriel too. What has he told her?

  “Forget what Uriel says.” Anger hardens my voice. “We don’t have
to kill each other to be the apex. We were never supposed to kill each other. Caldwell fucked that up when he killed Chaplain.”

  Rachel screams like I’ve just ripped off part of her face. “Chaplain deserved to die!”

  She throws herself against my shield and I step back reflexively, forgetting for a moment she can’t hit me. Maisie’s fingers bite into my arm, and I realize she’s pulled herself to standing. Rachel thrashes against the shield. Her face is a vicious mask of hate as she wails on the purple field protecting us.

  “Enough!” I yell. Anger and fear wash over me. I can’t just stand here and let her wail on my shield until she exhausts herself. Who knows how long that’ll be?

  My fire erupts forward, projected from my body in the same controlled way I managed earlier with Maisie’s help. It hits Rachel, knocking her back. She smacks the ground howling. She sails backwards, rolling feet over head before sprawling motionless in the center of the aisle.

  “God damn it.” I break away from Maisie and run toward Rachel, collapsing to my knees beside her body.

  I roll her over and see she’s conscious, but dazed. The front of her clothes are blackened, revealing raw flesh beneath. She bares her teeth at me hissing like an animal. The wounds look bad, but she’ll heal. If I can just shake her out of this, the way we did before. Maybe put her back in the asylum. She needs time. She can heal if I can buy her time.

  “Damn it,” I say. The tears are hot in my eyes. “You’re a moron. There’s no reason for this. Me, you, and Maisie can be the apex. Together.”

  She sucks in a ragged breath. “He has to die, Jessup. He has to.”

  Rachel’s gaze slides away from mine and I have to turn and take my eyes off of her long enough to see Ally standing in the hallway, kneeling beside Maisie.

  Rachel frowns. Her scowl deepens and she reaches a hand toward me. I take it, but she squirms in my grip. She places a hand over my chest and her fingers curl into claws. There’s a horrible instance where I think she’s going to try to claw my heart out of my chest.

  Her scowl softens into laughter. Hideous, abrupt and crazy. “Of course. Of fucking course.”