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

by Kory M. Shrum

  “We’re friends,” I remind her, because who knows what the hell Uriel has made her believe. “I would never hurt you. And I don’t believe you’d hurt me.”

  She reaches up and cups my cheek. Her lips part and an expression that any idiot would mistake for tenderness sits in her big eyes and soft lips. Until of course, her lips pull into a sneer and her hand hardens on my face.

  “You have too much faith in me, Jessup.”

  Chapter 41

  Rachel

  I try to seize Jessup’s heart again, but it doesn’t work for a third time.

  Why? I ask Uriel. Why?

  No answer.

  My will falters. Jessup’s cheek is warm and soft in my hand. She still looks so young. So sweet. Uriel?

  “No, no, Gideon’s okay,” Ally says, consoling Maisie. “He’s only unconscious.”

  I reach out for Ally. I reach out with my power and crush her heart in my grip.

  Alice gasps, placing one hand on her chest. Her eyes go wide with surprise. When her eyes meet mine, her mouth parts in surprise.

  “No!” Jesse’s fists ball up at her side. “Rachel, stop!”

  She ignites in flames. Blue fire erupts around us and I squeeze my eyes shut. Pain rips through me and I roll away from her fire. The cinder block feels cool on my hand. I try to breathe.

  My mind conjures a memory. When I was called to be a partis. I was consumed with power. I was clumsy with it and landed myself in an asylum.

  But the consequences of my actions weren’t real for me until weeks later when Jesse stood in the doorway of my ward room, searching my eyes for answers I didn’t have. That had hurt more than losing my freedom, my job, and my friends. The fear on her face. The disappointment.

  It’s the same look she gives me now as she watches me slump against the wall.

  Once upon a time she looked up to me. She made me feel like someone worthy of admiration. Mentoring her had begun to heal a part of me that Chaplain had destroyed. With every death, every secret, every affection, every laugh, we healed. And when I got out of the asylum, I’d wanted to be that person for her again.

  But by the time Brinkley had died, she didn’t need me anymore.

  Caldwell takes this moment to appear.

  And Jesse whirls on him, and her heartbreaking disappointment transforms into another emotion entirely. Anger.

  Gloria fires two bullets into Caldwell’s chest. He disappears, but Gloria is ready for this and throws an elbow behind her, connecting with Caldwell’s jaw the moment he reappears.

  Forget the girl, Uriel says. He diverts my attention from Ally. Her heart is weakened by my attack, but it didn’t kill her. My contact was too brief.

  When they are weak, exhausted from the fight, take the power for yourself.

  Uriel’s plan rings true. Who cares about Ally? She’s weak and human.

  I need to remain focused on one thing: taking the power for myself. Caldwell’s power. Georgia’s power. Maisie’s power—even Jesse’s. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t. After all, if Jesse doesn’t need me anymore, doesn’t admire or respect me anymore—

  So be it.

  She will fear me instead.

  Chapter 42

  Jesse

  I can’t decide if I’m supposed to stare at Rachel or Caldwell. With two sharks in the water, I can’t afford to take my eyes off either one. But Rachel looks wounded, or at the very least, winded.

  Make it up as we go, I’d argued. And here we are. What do I need to do first? First—

  We need Caldwell to stay in one place. And maybe I can keep Rachel busy at the same time. After all, the enemy of my enemy…

  “Do your job!” I scream at her. “Hold him.”

  Rachel hisses at me, her face more akin to a feral cat than human.

  Caldwell staggers then stumbles to the side. He cradles his jaw. But he doesn’t jump. His eyes cut to Rachel and his hate is apparent. He roars.

  “Maisie!” I scream. It’s the only warning I can manage. I reach out and tap our emotional connection. She sucks a breath and shudders beside Ally who sits slumped, clutching her chest.

  I feel more power wane, slipping away from me.

  No, no, no. Don’t lose focus now. Ally is okay. Or she’ll be okay. Focus, Jesse. So close—

  Do not forget I am here, Gabriel reminds me, a breeze through my mind. But his voice gives me strength nonetheless.

  “Do your job!” Rachel wails.

  I reach out and grab at Maisie’s power again, rolling it up in my own.

  “Gloria!” I shout and she ducks, barely being missed by the flare of power that explodes across the hall.

  Caldwell screams as the fire licks up his body.

  “I can’t—” Rachel says, dropping to one knee. Thick sweat beads on her brow.

  I run across the corridor and seize Caldwell before he can jump. The moment I grab hold of him, I ignite again.

  He thrashes in my arms, but I don’t let go. I close my eyes and hold on tighter. He disappears, taking me with him. The unmistakable shift of worlds happens around us, but I don’t let go. Gloria and the blinding white hallway disappear, only to appear again in the light of the blue flames.

  Please, Gabriel. Give me the strength to hold on. I want him dead. I want this to be over.

  White hot fire slides between my ribs and I scream out. I let go for an instant before tightening my hold.

  Caldwell’s lips press against my ear. “I’ve waited so long for this.”

  He twists his hand and the sharp pain intensifies. I feel like he has grabbed one of my ribs and is wrenching it from my body. A battle between the pain and the itching sensation of my healing gift merge into a single unbearable burn.

  He twists again and I’m screaming.

  I’m dying. I know I must be dying. But my flames keep burning and I still have hold of him.

  You want to burn? Let’s burn. I said this to him once before, but hadn’t been able to deliver on my promise that time. But now—now nothing could make me let go.

  My whole body shakes. I keep trying to breathe but it feels like I’m drowning. I can’t get enough air and black sparks dance in my eyes. But still I hold onto him and I burn.

  When I refuse to let go, refuse to stop burning him, he begins the mental assault. He shows me beautiful image after beautiful image. Me as a baby, and the feelings of euphoria and wonder as he took me into his arms for the first time.

  Me as a toddler, opening and closing my chubby fists. Wanting to be picked up.

  Then on a tricycle on our street. Me in a lavender dress collecting plastic eggs in a basket. Me skipping to school with a rainbow backpack and a frog painted on my cheek.

  The way he would twirl me in his arms when he picked me up. The feel of my little arms around his neck.

  He wants to rob me of my anger. My hate. My fuel.

  Stop, I beg him. Because his love is more wretched than his disdain.

  Gabriel, please. I can’t hold on. I can’t hold on any longer.

  My flames sputter and Caldwell’s blackened face comes into focus through a thin sheen of blue fire.

  Please let this be over.

  The whoosh of black wings cuts through the roar of flames. A great blast of air cools my cheek and the soft scent of rain envelops me. The burning in my ribs stops. The pain leaves my body. It’s a miracle.

  I am your strength, Gabriel says. And it must be true. All of the pain is gone.

  All I feel is peace.

  Caldwell has stopped thrashing. We’ve reached a calm in the eye of the storm. One last image assails me, loud and clear:

  Eric Sullivan hides in the shadow of a tree outside my house, watching me through my bedroom window. This must be a couple of years after his death. In my room, I’m stretched out on my belly, flipping through my school books and sucking on a ring pop, and singing the jingle from a gum commercial.

  He watches me for a long time, or at least in the memory it feels like a long time, as he
tries to convince himself to let me go.

  I realize we have stopped moving. The white room is bright around me.

  I never let you go, Caldwell whispers. I couldn’t let you go.

  “Let go,” Gloria begs. “Jesse, it’s okay. You can let go.”

  I’m crying.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and the memories are still there. I wipe my face with the heels of my hands. I finger the wound at my side and it comes away warm and sticky with blood.

  “What the fuck did he stab me with?” I shudder. I feel the holes seal themselves thanks to Jason’s healing gift, but the pain won’t go away. Whatever relief Gabriel was able to provide was temporary at best. I’m left with the last seed Caldwell planted: his regrets.

  He’s given me so many scars. What’s a few more?

  “This.” Gloria picks a knife off the floor. It’s slick with my blood all the way up to the end of the handle. Clearly, he buried it to the hilt.

  “Hey!” Maisie screams. “Hey stop!” And I whirl expecting the worst. Georgia. Caldwell’s goons.

  I didn’t expect to see Rachel leaning over Caldwell’s body.

  “No! Wait!” I scream. I lunge forward but Rachel waves her hand and I’m thrown against the wall. Gloria is also caught in the blast and lands a few feet away from me. Her gun clatters to the floor.

  No, no, no. Rachel can’t absorb Caldwell powers. We can’t let her. Her mind will be beyond repair if she does. Not to mention what she’ll do to me and Maisie next.

  I pull myself up to my hands and knees and scream at her. “Stop!”

  Ally reaches her first. Ally was closer to Caldwell’s body and she dared take her head-on. I can only stare in horror, scrambling toward them, as Ally kicks Rachel in the face. Rachel slides back away from Caldwell’s body, giving Ally the moment she needs to put herself between Caldwell and Rachel. Rachel touches her broken nose, blood gushing down her face.

  “You bitch!” she says in a thick, blood-coated voice.

  Ally clutches her chest again.

  “No!” I scream. “Rachel don’t hurt her! Please!”

  I’m running and it’s like the hallway is a funhouse stretching longer and longer, preventing me from reaching them. Ally’s face pinches, and her breath goes shallow. A choked sound escapes her mouth. Then that’s it. Her eyes glaze and she slumps to the floor, lying side-by-side with Caldwell. Just as dead as he is.

  Chapter 43

  Rachel

  Jessup’s face blanches. Her eyes slide from Caldwell to Ally, but she remains frozen in the middle of the hallway. Gunfire erupts nearby, but she doesn’t even move. Her eyes glazed, fixed on the bodies but not seeing them. I’ve seen this before in the asylum. Some patients would slip into catatonia for months. They wouldn’t move, eat, or speak.

  This is a hell of a time to go all stupid, Jessup.

  A bullet shatters a window and I duck, shielding my head. Jessup still doesn’t move. She’s in shock. Either because her father is dead, because Ally is dead, or because both deaths happened in such quick succession of one another. Is she going to cry about it? This is hardly the time. Caldwell’s men will be on us in minutes.

  I pull myself up. Gloria and Gideon both stir toward consciousness.

  If I’m going to take Caldwell’s powers now is the time. But it will kill me. So where can I go where they won’t follow?

  Before I can think of an answer, two hands grab me and yank me off of my feet. My skin burns at the touch and I wail.

  “You killed him!” Georgia screams. Mascara trails down her face in two dark streams. “You killed him you bitch!”

  I wrench myself from her grip the same moment that I shove her away from me. She trips over Caldwell’s body and hits her head against the back of the wall. For a heartbeat she’s dazed, her eyes swimming in their sockets. Then her focus sharpens and the black ribbons unfurl from her back.

  Another bullet zings down the hall and pierces her shoulder.

  She cries out and blood blooms through her clothes. The gunfire intensifies as if a small army is just around the corner. Georgia and I are forced into a truce in order to duck for cover or risk having our brains blown out.

  Georgia barks orders. “Help me carry him! Maisie!”

  “No!” the girl says. Gideon’s eyes fly open and he pulls his weapon, pointing the barrel at Georgia.

  Maisie wails. “No!” She shoves the barrel down and it goes off, putting a bullet in Caldwell’s lifeless body. “That’s my mom!”

  The gunfire keeps spilling into this hallway, but there’s no bodies. If the soldiers themselves appeared, I could throw them or stop their hearts. But my powers don’t work on flying bullets.

  “Your shield!” I shout to Jessup, as if my voice is going to lift her out of her shock. “Erect your shield, idiot, or we’re going to be shot!”

  “You won’t have to worry about that pretty little face of yours,” Georgia sneers. Pretty little face? She dares to taunt me about my scar, the bitch.

  I reach out with my mind and seize her heart. Her eyes go wide. Her ribbons arch up, ready to strike.

  “No,” Maisie wails. But Gideon pulls her away from us and the immediate battle. And I know exactly what I must do.

  Chapter 44

  Jesse

  Caldwell is dead. Ally is dead. And now my best friend is my enemy.

  I can’t move. I can’t breathe.

  Rachel killed Ally. Oh my god, Rachel killed Ally.

  How could you do this to me?

  A strange pantomime of emotion consumes me. I feel everything until it crescendos into nothing. A void grows in my mind.

  A bullet whizzes past my face, cutting my cheek. Then there’s hot blood. Then the burn of its healing.

  Gabriel tries to pull me to the surface of the dark pond I’m drowning in.

  If you do not shield yourself, you will be shot in the head.

  Nothing.

  I don’t care about myself. I never did any of this for me.

  He tries again.

  If you don’t shield Alice, her head could be shot and then Maisie cannot revive her.

  This brings the world into sharp focus.

  Maisie can revive her.

  Another stray bullet ricochets off the cinder block wall and straight through the remaining glass window. Another hits my shield the moment after I erect it.

  Four soldiers in full combat gear duck into our hallway, glancing at us only once before aiming their guns. The soldier on the left is struck and he goes down, his faceplate busted open from the gunshot.

  A man in a suit appears and tries to shoot a second soldier before another soldier whirls and strikes him in the face with the butt of her gun. He crumples and the gunfire stops. I watch them as if what is happening beyond the shield is the most important thing. I should be killing Rachel. Or I could at least kill Georgia, though she sits just beyond the shield. A purple shimmer separating her from Caldwell’s body.

  I can’t even look at Ally’s body.

  Forgive her. Forgive me, Brinkley said.

  My heart kicks in my chest. What if Brinkley never expected me to save Rachel? What if he knew Ally would die and the whole forgive her bit was about not blaming her for what she did to Ally?

  Never. I can never forgive her.

  With three of the soldiers dead and the gunfire ceased, the last soldier tears off her helmet to reveal stark blond hair and a thick orange streak beneath.

  “Sasquatch.” I drop the shield and for once in my life, I’m happy to see her.

  Nikki isn’t looking at me. Her eyes are fixed on Ally.

  “You killed her,” Nikki says. Her face blanches.

  “Rachel—” I begin but I choke on the name.

  “You killed her!” Nikki lifts her gun and shoves the barrel against my temple.

  Chapter 45

  Rachel

  The moment Jesse’s shield erects, knocking Georgia back, I descend on Caldwell. I search my pockets for the small weapon that
I used to kill Niv, but it’s gone. On the floor several feet away, there’s a knife that Caldwell used to stab Jessup. I scurry toward it on hands and knees and snatch it up, leaving bloody fingerprints along the linoleum.

  I rush back to the body. If I kill Caldwell, maybe I can use his teleportation to jump the moment the blue fire erupts. At least that way, I can be dead somewhere else, far from here. By the time Gloria sketches my location, I’ll be alive and well. Maybe even ready for a second assault.

  My whole body quivers with anticipation. The knife trembles in my fist. I’m so excited I could howl.

  I grin at Caldwell’s body. The face is placid. Not a wrinkle to worry his brow or tighten his mouth. He looks so peaceful.

  I remember Brinkley’s journal entry for how they defeated Chaplain—by stabbing him through the eye.

  Yes.

  That’s exactly what he deserves.

  I slam the knife down, aiming for the left eye when a dark hand seizes mine. The knife stops inches above his eye.

  Gideon holds my wrist there. “No.”

  “Let go of me!”

  “No, love,” he says, his voice softening. “That’s enough.”

  Anger seizes me. I ram the knife into Gideon’s chest and he doesn’t even look surprised. He grimaces, but that’s it. No revulsion. No look of betrayal. Only sadness. I try to shove him away from me. But because he won’t let go, we slide together across the floor.

  “Cariño,” he says, using my own nickname against me. He crushes me against him so tightly that I can’t move. “You’re better than this. Brinkley knew you were better than this.”

  Brinkley.

  Brinkley’s rugged and beautiful face.

  The moment he leaned over Chaplain’s bed and undid the restraints choking me. The moment he slipped off his jacket and wrapped me up in it, giving me decency for the first time in months. I’d sobbed in his arms for what seemed like forever. His gruff voice reassuring me that I was safe now.

  He’s dead, Brinkley had said. He’s dead and he’s never going to hurt you again.

  I’m looking at Gideon’s face, but it’s Brinkley’s voice I hear.