by David Beers
“It’s an honor to meet you, M-M-M-M.” The Priestess stopped talking, as well as stopped nailing the wood together. “Meh-meh-Mrs. Windsor. M-my name is L-l-luh-lucy.”
Oh, Zeus help us all, Luke thought. She was going to keep stuttering. Luke didn’t need more reasons to hate God, but this was something he couldn’t overlook. Out of all the people to put in Luke’s path, God picked one with an extremely annoying tic.
“Hi, Lucy,” Mrs. Windsor said. “It’s an honor to be properly introduced to you.”
Oh, this was good.
“Wuh-why?” Lucy didn’t glance up, averting her gaze from Christian’s mother.
“Because no one else sees what you do.”
The young woman looked up, the light from above illuminating her face and showing hope across it. How long had it been since this creature felt such a thing—not the false hope of the false god she prayed to—but actual hope from a human being?
“That my son is the world’s savior. I’ve been waiting for someone like you to come along.”
Luke closed his eyes and, once again, did everything in his power to keep from breaking into a smile. He was having a good time.
CHAPTER 21
T ommy placed his cell phone down. He sat up in his bed, the lights off around him.
“Do you have to go?” Alice said.
Tommy closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. He didn’t want to speak, not to Alice nor anyone else. Not with the news he just received.
Alarm was triggered. Police showed up and found two dead officers. Veronica Lopez is missing.
Tommy had simply ended the call. He could have raged, demanding answers, but all of it wouldn’t matter one bit. The only thing that mattered was the next call he had to make.
“Honey?”
“Yes,” he said, his eyes still closed. “I’m going to have to leave.”
“What’s going on?”
“He got Veronica.”
“Jesus Christ,” Alice whispered.
Tommy stood, then reached back to the bed and grabbed his phone. He walked across the bedroom and out onto the condo’s balcony. He looked at the city, seeing Atlanta’s night skyline before him.
“How is he doing this?”
The wind answered him, whispering so quietly that it might not have spoken at all.
Tommy dialed Christian and put the phone to his ear.
“Hey,” Christian said, his voice sounding excited.
“He got Veronica,” Tommy said. “The two cops are dead and she’s missing.”
Silence came back over the phone, stretching on so long that Tommy finally had to say, “Are you there?”
“He’s not a he. He’s a she.”
The phone line went dead.
THE PRIESTESS SAT in front of Christian’s mother, her legs folded in what kids used to call Indian Style. Luke wasn’t sure if that was considered too politically incorrect nowadays. The whims of people were so fickle—while millions died from malaria, social justice warriors fought for equal screen time for male and female co-hosts on network news.
Luke understood God, although not why he insisted on keeping such a primitive species alive, and on top of the food chain, at that. Of course, God couldn’t actually be classified as a ‘he’ at all, but that was Luke’s small protest against the social justice warriors.
“You see why I’m doing this, then?” Lucy’s speech impediment had fallen away as her mind became more wrapped up in the conversation.
“Yes, of course. I’ve always known Christian was meant for something great. I’m surprised the media hasn’t figured it out yet,” Mrs. Windsor said.
Lucy shook her head and stared between her legs. “They won’t get it until he finally does, but then it’ll be too late. Then they’ll have to pay for their wicked ways.”
“Bring him here,” Mrs. Windsor. “Bring my son and show him what you’ve done for him.”
Luke had been looking straight ahead, acting as if Lucy’s threats were keeping him quiet—though he really wanted to let the two speak. Now, though, he turned and looked at Christian’s mother. She was following his suggestion.
“Do you think he’s ready?” Lucy asked.
“He will be. Once he sees all of this. Once he witnesses what you’re going to do to Dr. Titan over there.”
Luke watched as Mrs. Windsor flicked her eyes toward him before looking back at Lucy.
“He’ll have police around him,” the Priestess said. “He’ll be on high alert. If they catch me, I’ll never get the chance to do this. He has to understand first.”
“Not true,” Luke said, looking back toward the door. “If you let me talk to Christian, I can get him here.”
He heard Lucy turn. “You lie.”
“No, I don’t. He’ll come if he thinks there’s a chance to save his mother. He doesn’t know your true intentions.”
“What do you think?” Lucy asked Mrs. Windsor.
“He’s probably right. And once he sees all that you’ve done, he’ll understand.”
Luke knew Mrs. Windsor trusted him to speak to Christian and have the cavalry come riding in. Not exactly, my dear.
“They’ll trace the call,” Lucy said.
“Not if you use my phone. My personal one is encrypted.”
Lucy’s face was contorted in thought, deciding whether to trust him.
“If y-y-you’re luh-lying, I’ll cuh-cut your tongue out.”
“Did you grab my phone when you kidnapped me?”
“It’s in the cuh-cuh-car,” Lucy said.
“Bring it here.”
She stood slowly and walked to him. She looked at him for a few seconds, casting her final judgment on his suggestion. Finally, she turned and lifted the door, before slipping under it.
“He’ll save us, won’t he?” Mrs. Windsor whispered.
“Quiet now.”
It only took the Priestess a minute or so to grab the phone and come back in, closing the door behind her. She walked to Luke and put the phone to his face. “H-he’s under Cuh-cuh-Christian?”
“Yes.” The phone was already ringing.
“Luke?”
“It’s me, Christian.”
“Where are you?” Windsor’s voice was low, as if he was in a movie theater. Luke heard no emotion.
“I’m with her.”
Lucy pulled the phone away from his face, looked at it for a second, and then clicked the speakerphone on.
“She can hear you now,” Luke said.
“Is my mother there? Veronica?”
“We’re all here,” Luke said.
“Let me hear their voices.”
“I’m here, Christian,” his mother said.
“Veronica is unconscious,” Luke said.
Christian was quiet for a few seconds. “What’s your name?” he said to the Priestess. Her eyes widened and her face finally froze completely still, shock that her savior was speaking to her taking over.
“Her name is Lucy, Christian. She wants you to come here with us. She wants to show you what she’s been planning for you.”
“Tell me where you are, Lucy,” Christian said in that same low voice. Luke liked the sound of it—perhaps he wasn’t emotionless, maybe rage rested beneath, unlike the fear he normally carried around.
“N-n-no.”
“Then how can I come to you?”
“I-I-I’ll come to yuh-yuh-you,” she said.
“When?”
Luke looked at Lucy and saw she was considering how this would work. She wasn’t good at thinking on her feet; she needed time to process—or talk to God, whichever she preferred to call it. Here, though, there wasn’t time to ask God what to do.
“Soon,” she said and hung up the phone. She put it in her pocket and then looked at Luke. “You’re luh-luh-lying. If I tell him, cops will come. A l-l-l-lot of them. But Muh-muh-mrs. Windsor is right. I need to buh-buh-bring him here.”
“You’ll need me, if you want to get him without being caug
ht,” Luke said. “You’ll need to grab him at the office, when it’s late and no one’s working. He’s being watched now, because of how you grabbed Veronica. You won’t be able to sneak into someone’s house again.”
Lucy looked down at her watch. Luke knew the time, though he hadn’t seen a clock in days. It was nearing four in the morning.
“When?” she said.
“Tomorrow night. Around this time.”
“Okay,” she said.
Luke expected her to leave, to need time away from him so that she could pray—just the psychopath’s way of dealing with the world around her. Luke, for once, was wrong. She sat down in front of Christian’s mother and began talking again.
Luke closed his eyes.
He needed to be near Christian. He needed a chance to talk with him. Christian’s rebirth was near, the boy only needing a nudge in the right direction.
TOMMY KNOCKED on Christian’s door, or rather, he reached to, but his partner opened it before his knuckles connected.
Christian’s gun was holstered on his hip.
“Let’s go,” he said, passing by Tommy.
“Where to?”
“The office.”
“Why didn’t we just meet there, then?”
“Because we need to talk first. When we get there we need to work,” Christian said. He’d reached Tommy’s car and turned around.
Tommy saw the intensity that had been missing in Christian for months—the part that arrived when his brain moved at full speed, functioning like a super computer.
Tommy went to the car, unlocked the doors, and they both got in.
“First, we’re not looking for a man. The person doing this is a woman,” Christian said.
“How do you know?”
“She called me from Luke’s phone, or rather, she allowed Luke to call me—”
“When?”
“Just be quiet, Tommy. Let me talk.”
Tommy looked over but Christian kept his gaze forward. “Okay, go on.”
“She’s coming to get me. She wants me to witness what she’s going to do to them. They’re alive for now. We’re going to let her come get me, and when she does, you’ll let her take me. Then you follow, and once we arrive, you’ll send in the tactical team.”
“Then why are we going to the office? If she’s coming, we can set this all up from your house.”
“No,” Christian said, shaking his head. “No one else is involved. You’re the only one who’s going to follow her.”
“Why?”
“Because other people could fuck it up. You won’t. I won’t. Our friend is in there. Other people don’t have anyone they love involved. You follow and when you understand where we’re going, then you call reinforcements.”
Tommy drove down the road, not speaking for a second. “I still don’t understand why we’re going to the office.”
“Luke is smart. He’ll know to tell her to go there, because we’ll be working on catching her.”
“Are we?”
“We don’t have to. You stay alert; I have to go back to my mansion.”
They finished the ride in silence, with Tommy contemplating all the rules they were breaking. When Waverly found out, they’d all lose their jobs—probably even if everyone survived. None of that really mattered, though. Christian was right: they had to save those they loved. Tommy had to decide whether Christian’s plan was the one with the greatest chance of success, or whether emotion was now ruling his normally logical thought process.
Christian went to his office and turned on the computer. He sat down in front of the light, leaving the rest of the floor in darkness. Tommy found a corner and sat down in it, putting his ass on the floor. He wanted to stay out of the light, in case she came tonight.
And what if she didn’t?
He stood and walked back across the floor.
“What if she doesn’t show up?”
Christian opened his eyes. “Then we wait until she does.”
Tommy nodded, supposing he could use the days to do actual investigative work. He turned and went back to his corner. Tommy watched Christian’s eyes close again, and wondered if they were making a mistake.
He couldn’t know what was going on inside Christian’s head, but he knew the world. He knew the FBI. Could other agents fuck it up if they were involved? Sure. Could he and Christian handle all of this on their own? He didn’t know.
It was only one woman, but that single woman had disabled one of the most capable agents Tommy knew. She’d then killed two cops on her way to kidnapping her fifth person.
Tommy chuckled. He almost couldn’t believe it was a woman—not in any real sexist way, just, Shit, this broad is crazy. She’s like the fucking Terminator.
He stared at Christian until just before the sun rose, unable to make up his mind. When he heard the elevator open on the floor, he stood and watched. Just the first employee coming in, someone wanting to get a jump on the day. Tommy walked to Christian’s office.
“Hey,” he said, unsure how loud he should be.
Christian opened his eyes and a chill went through Tommy as he spoke. “I’m going to kill her.”
TOMMY HAD SPENT the waning hours of the morning staring at Christian.
Christian spent the same time staring at the girl who considered him almost God.
That, and listening to the voice inside his head. The one that said it was him, or what he would become. Perhaps it told the truth; Christian wasn’t sure any longer. He only knew he had to get his mother back. Veronica and Luke, too.
Two years ago, when he watched Bradley Brown’s life play out in his head, he felt pity for the man. Not empathy, exactly, but perhaps sympathy for what he’d gone through? That sympathy was what created the few moments of space for Luke to step in and kill Brown. Now, as he watched this girl, not a single thought of sorrow moved through him.
His mind had turned cold against her, a calculating thing with very little difference from a machine.
He watched the girl learn how to strangle herself in order to induce hallucination.
“If you won’t allow her to serve you, you’re going to have to kill her. You know that right?” the other, as Christian was coming to think of it, had said.
He watched the girl whip her back with a large leather strap, repenting for perceived transgressions.
“You want to kill her, Christian. If you’re being honest with yourself,” the other had said.
He listened to the girl’s father preach about the Lord and how he would send a message dictating who their savior would be.
“She’s going to kill everyone you love. If you let her,” the other had said.
Christian didn’t respond, but it seemed to speak a truth that he’d been ignoring—refusing to hear because of its ruthlessness.
In the end, though, even as his mind’s video showed the girl writhing in pain from another parental ‘lesson’, the other was all he heard, whispering sweet nothings of revenge.
“HEY,” Agent Bench said at the entrance to Christian’s office.
Christian’s chair was turned around and he was looking out his office window. He’d been out of his mansion for some time, but there was no need to do any actual work. Everything would be finished soon.
Christian swung his chair and faced Bench.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Got a second?”
“Sure,” Christian said.
Bench approached his desk but didn’t sit down. He handed him a piece of paper which showed a license plate, a name, and a car model.
“A local cop found this car late last night in a ditch. It wasn’t far from Luke’s house, and it’s been impounded. I’m swamped dealing with these search warrants, would you or Tommy mind looking at it?”
Christian viewed the picture of the early model car. It was from the nineties, and the owner’s name said it belonged to a Wesley Speckle. It made sense. The Priestess showed up in her car, but why not take Luke’s instead?<
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“Yeah, I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks a lot. These judges are a beast with the warrants.”
“No problem,” Christian said.
“Alright, I’ll stop by later.” Bench turned and walked out of the room, leaving Christian with the paper that would lead him to the Priestess. He looked at it for a few seconds, then folded it up and stuck it in his desk drawer.
There was no need for it.
The Priestess would come for him, and then, he’d end all of this. No reason to get anyone else involved.
Christian sat back down in his chair and continued staring out his office window.
TOMMY WAS FINALLY GROWING TIRED, yet he knew sleep was a luxury he wouldn’t see for a long time.
He had tried checking in on Christian throughout the day, but the kid wanted nothing to do with Tommy—or anyone apparently. He only stared at his computer screen, his hands rapidly typing on the keyboard.
“What are you doing?” Tommy asked.
“Working.”
“Want to let me in on the kind of work you’re doing?”
“No,” Christian said.
Tommy didn’t like the look on his face and as the day wore on, he began rethinking their decision to do this alone. Another twelve hours had passed, and they knew nothing more about Luke’s, or anyone else’s, condition.
Bench came by Tommy’s office, and despite Tommy’s penchant for long hours and hard work, he was staring blankly at an empty web browser.
“Hey,” Bench said from the door.
Tommy looked up and blinked. “Hey.”
“You sleep at all last night?”
“Not much,” Tommy said.
“I gave Windsor something to work on a little while ago, might not be anything important. He seemed kind of out of it, so I didn’t stay long. Either of you heard anything?”
This was his chance to let the world in on Christian’s plan, and yet Tommy couldn’t bring himself to say the words. All he needed to say was, Yeah, she’s coming for Christian next.
