Visci (Soul Cavern Series Book 2)

by Venessa Giunta

  “How are we going to get by him?” Jenny called to Will.

  He didn’t respond right away, only gave her a grim glance before he peeked around his corner very quickly. “We’re pinned. I don’t know how we’re—”

  Th-th-th-th-th!

  What the hell?

  A bullet shot threw the kitchen and lodged itself high on the wall behind her. Then nothing but the th-th-th sound, and Zoey, several feet away, punching the other guy.

  Jenny peeked around the corner, but all she could see was the feet of the man who’d been shooting at them. He was on his side on the floor, with his lower legs sticking into the hall. His calves and feet were still, but straight as a board.

  There seemed to be movement across the hall from him, and in the split second it took her to shift her gaze, another shot rang out from a barrel she could just see. A scream from the living room. A female scream.

  There was no time to think. She raced down the hall. She needed to get there before this new person had time to pin them again. Visci blood sang in her veins as she put on more speed than any human.

  The man stood at the inside door to the garage, and he was just shifting to face her direction when she slammed into him. The gun flew from his hand as they fell back onto the concrete floor. It skittered beneath the van parked there.

  The man’s head slammed against the floor hard enough that Jenny thought it should have cracked right open.

  It didn’t.

  His brown eyes clouded for a second but quickly cleared. He drew back his arm. Just as she realized he was going to hit her, fire exploded in her jaw. She flew backward through the doorway.

  Ragged pain ripped up her torso as she landed squarely on her hip.

  The man got to his feet so fast, Jenny didn’t even see him. He came at her. Everything moved like lightning. She skittered away on her backside, trying to get to her friends. To safety.

  But he was on her, the weight of him pinning her, keeping her from moving. His fingers wrapped around her throat. Her heart felt like it would explode. She kept trying to move down the hall but now he was squeezing her, and she couldn’t get air. Couldn’t get breath.

  Voices yelled from far away. Voices she thought she recognized.

  She beat against the man, but even with her strength, she couldn’t match him. His face contorted above her, until it looked like a fun-house apparition, all swirls and weird angles. Except his eyes. Dark eyes. Black eyes.

  Black dots. At the edge of her vision. She tried to gasp, but there was nothing there. Her hands flailed uselessly against his.

  She wouldn’t close her eyes. If she was going to die, she’d make sure he’d see them. Her eyes. Make him watch.

  His grip tightened more. As if it really could. She struggled beneath him, but his weight… His weight.

  She wished her mother was here.

  “Jenny!”

  She tried to call out to her mom, but there were no words. Because there was no breath.

  The blackness around the edges of the man closed in. Taking over.

  No air. Just his weight, his crushing weight on her body, on her neck.

  Air.

  She gulped in a thin mouthful.

  His grip had loosened, but only a bit. Barely enough.

  She opened her eyes. She didn’t remember closing them. She hadn’t meant to close them.

  Above her the man—he looked smaller, older—struggled with…someone.

  The vision swam.

  Brown skin.

  Brown hair.

  Mecca.

  No! He’ll kill you! You’re human!

  She gasped again, and the air was still there. All there. Plentiful. She sucked it in, her throat on fire.

  And the man got smaller.

  His eyes.

  He looked back at her, and his eyes held panic. Raw fear. A part of her fed on that.

  Beyond his shoulder, Mecca stood, her hands on his back. Her eyes were wide open, but she didn’t seem to be seeing Jenny. Or the man. Her eyes focused on something in between Mecca herself and the man withering beneath her.

  The weight on Jenny lightened, and she had enough wits to scramble away, her heels skidding on the linoleum floor of the hall.

  Then someone was behind her, hands touching her shoulders. “Shh,” came the male voice. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

  “Holy shit.” A woman.

  Jenny couldn’t make her mind recognize the voices, but she knew them, she was sure.

  Everything was quiet, except for soft sobs coming from somewhere. What direction were they even coming from? Everything was so confused.

  When Jenny finally swung her gaze up, Mecca stood over…

  A waterfall of information clicked in her head. Noor, in London, standing over the dead Visci sent by her mom’s old friend Claude. Mecca’s Uncle Ken, who discovered there was a name for their kind: Jivaja.

  Telling Mecca that she knew what Mecca was, and it was okay.

  Jenny hadn’t connected Noor to Mecca. Or, rather, she hadn’t connected what Noor did to what Mecca potentially could do.

  Until now.

  Until Mecca killed a Visci in the same way Noor had killed the hotel man.

  Her best friend met her gaze, and they stared at each other. Mecca’s eyes were both defiant and searching at the same time.

  “Thank you,” Jenny said.

  Mecca’s expression softened, and the corners of her lips raised. She nodded.

  “Holy shit,” Zoey said again.

  Yes. Zoey. The weird, rude woman who’d led them there in the search for Jorge.

  “How did you do that? Actually, what the fuck is it that you did?”

  Jenny swung her gaze around and looked at each of them. Except…

  “Sara,” she said. “Sara is hurt.” She struggled to stand, and Will helped her.

  Mecca’s forehead creased. “What? No. She’s outside.”

  “Yes.”

  Sara was supposed to have gone to the back of the house. But Jenny knew she hadn’t. That scream. It came from the side, not the back.

  Jenny staggered toward the kitchen with Will all but propping her up. She was glad he hadn’t tried to stop her, because he could have. Easily. Her body barely moved the way she wanted it to. And that took all her concentration. She had no energy for anything so luxurious as resistance.

  She heard Mecca coming up behind, and she was glad. There was no way she’d be able to help Sara the way she was, hardly able to even walk on her own. A faint throb in her hip walked with her the entire way.

  “I’m staying here with Jorge,” Zoey said.

  Jenny was almost past the dining room. She spared a glance toward the room beside her as they made their way. Jorge lay on a table, straps holding him down. One sleeve of his shirt had been rolled up, and a rubber tourniquet lay trapped between his upper arm and torso, as if it’d been unfastened after use.

  “Someone is under the table,” Jenny said, the incredulity in her voice matching her emotion.

  “Yeah,” Zoey said. “That’s the guy from the car. He’s fine. I’ve got him.”

  And then they’d made it to the kitchen.

  Cool autumn air met her at the door, chilling her throat with each breath. It felt good. Somewhere, someone had been burning leaves or maybe a bonfire. It was the weather for it. Jenny peered through the darkness as she walked.

  By the time they’d gotten halfway around the house, Jenny had her feet more firmly under her and didn’t have to lean as heavily on Will.

  “You okay?” he asked when she straightened.

  “Yeah, I think so. We need to get to Sara.”

  “I’m here,” came Sara’s voice.

  She sat on the ground, cradling her left arm with her right. The living room’s light barely reached her, so Jenny couldn’t make out details until they got closer.

  “Sorry,” Sara said. “I passed out after that asshole shot me.”

  Will squeezed Jenny’s arm. “You oka
y to stand?”

  She nodded as Mecca came up on her other side.

  “I’m right here,” Mecca said, barely meeting her gaze. “If you need me.”

  Jenny gave her a smile, and Mecca returned it—probably the most honest, heartfelt expression they’d shared since Jenny had gotten back from London.

  Will moved to Sara’s side. “Let me see.”

  “He fucking shot me,” Sara said again. “Asshole.”

  Will tended to Sara and Jenny pulled in a lungful of the cold fall air. It burned her throat, but she was glad of the burn. It meant she hadn’t died under that man’s hands.

  She was alive.

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Mecca

  Mecca watched as Will checked Sara’s wound. She was acutely aware of Jenny beside her.

  How did her best friend in the world view her now, after watching her kill someone? She didn’t know.

  Jenny had thanked her, but did that mean anything besides what the words said? Was there something beyond that? She didn’t know that either.

  Sara let out a yelp. Will had pressed hard against her wound.

  “It took a chunk out of her arm, but it’s mostly just a bad graze,” Will said. “That’s good, but we need to get her to a hospital. I can bandage her up inside.”

  Mecca nodded. “Can you walk?”

  “I got shot in the arm,” Sara said. “I don’t walk on my arms.”

  They all looked at her, surprise in each of their features matched Mecca’s reaction one hundred percent.

  Sara gave a rueful laugh. “Sorry. I think I was channeling Zoey right then.”

  Now Will laughed, but a true one. One he didn’t use often. “Yes. Yes, you were. Come on. Let me help you.” He got her to her feet, being careful of her arm.

  “Was that the front door?” Jenny asked.

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Mecca said. She listened, but still heard nothing.

  They made their way around to the back of the house and inside.

  In the room beside the kitchen, the guy who’d been under the table was now sitting in a chair beside the table Jorge lay strapped to.

  Zoey stood leaning against the table, staring at the man. When they came in, she nodded toward him. “He’s the dude from the car. Medical guy.”

  “Scientist,” he said.

  “Yeah, yeah. Now he talks.” She looked over to them. “Been trying to get him to talk since you went outside. I think I’ve been too nice.” Then she noticed Sara. “What happened to you?”

  “Shot,” Sara said. “In the fucking arm.”

  Zoey nodded. “Cool.”

  They shared a strange grin.

  Wait. Are they…flirting?

  Mecca shook her head. She didn’t actually care if they were.

  Will had disappeared, coming back a few moments later with gauze and an athletic wrap. He set about bandaging Sara’s wound.

  Jenny, who had walked on her own the entire way back, that badass, took several steps down the hall. “Where’s the other guy? The one from the living room?”

  “Yeah,” Sara said. “He’s my guy. My TASERed guy.” She grinned.

  “Let him go,” Zoey said.

  “What?” Mecca could imagine him running back to wherever, talking about the meddling kids who ruined their operation.

  “Jorge needed a snack, so we borrowed the guy for a few minutes. But we don’t need him long-term, since we’ve got the medical du—”

  “Scientist,” the man interjected.

  Zoey barely glanced at him before continuing. “So we didn’t need the other guy.”

  “You didn’t kill him when he…fed?”

  Genuine surprise showed in Zoey’s arched eyebrow. “Why would we kill him?”

  A flush heated Mecca’s cheeks. Zoey’s tone made it sound like Mecca was an idiot. She thought Claude would have killed him. Or Emilia. She glanced at Will, and he gave her a little shrug and a smile. A gentle “I told you so.”

  Zoey pushed off the table into a stand. “He took off out the front door. He might be half a mile away by now, as fast as he was running.”

  “We have to get out of here,” Will said. “Whoever this place belongs to, when our runner gets to them, they will come back. We need to be gone.”

  Mecca didn’t have any argument with that.

  “It’s going to be hard to get out while Jorge is napping,” Sara said.

  “He was just awake.” Zoey spun around. “Dammit.”

  Jorge had definitely passed out.

  “Anything in that bag,” Will said to the guy in the scrubs, pointing at the satchel beneath the table, “that will wake him up?”

  He didn’t say a word. Zoey took a step toward him, and he flinched. But he still kept silent.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Will said, grabbing the black satchel on the floor beneath where Jorge’s head was and hoisting it onto the table. He rifled through it for less than a minute, grabbing things and looking at them, before pulling out a syringe and a particular glass vial.

  He set them on the table beside Jorge and tightened the rubber tourniquet around the unconscious man’s arm. Will tapped around the crease of his elbow for a moment and grabbed the vial. He filled the syringe.

  As he bent over Jorge’s arm and positioned the needle, he said, “The trick to giving Visci a poke is to go really, really fast.” He thrust the needle into a vein, pushed the plunger, and slid the entire thing out in less than two seconds. As he wiped the area, he looked up. “They heal very quickly.”

  Mecca stepped forward and looked. Jorge’s arm was smooth and unmarked. “Wow. That’s crazy.”

  All of this reminded her way too much of her own captivity. She was ready to get out of here.

  “No crazier than you sucking the life out of him,” Zoey said, throwing her hand in the direction of the withered corpse. “A lot less crazy than that, actually. You still haven’t explained what the hell you just did.” As she said all this, her face became stony.

  Will spoke again, his voice louder, a bit more firm. “We can sort that out later. We need to go. How long until the one who ran brings others?” He glanced around, but no one answered. “Exactly. We don’t know. So let’s go, while we can.”

  Mecca had never seen his take-charge attitude before. It was interesting. Good. Especially if it shut Zoey up, which it did. For now.

  “What happened?” Jorge struggled to sit up from the hard table, and Zoey rushed to his side.

  “Hey. You’re okay. We came to get you.”

  “Oh. The panic button. Yeah. I’m glad it worked.”

  For the first time tonight, a gentle smile played along Zoey’s lips. “Me too. Come on. Let’s get you moving.”

  Will was scrounging through the satchel. He tossed Mecca a pair of black latex gloves. As he shoved a second pair into his jeans pocket, he said, “You’re with me, in his car.” Will motioned to the guy in scrubs. “Jenny, your guy had a gun. Did you see what happened to it?”

  “Under the van in the garage, I think,” she said, watching him.

  Will came back with the gun and approached Mecca. He leaned into her ear. “Confirm that scientist guy over there isn’t Visci for me, please.”

  Mecca nodded and opened her sight. Their captive sat on one of the dining room chairs, only one of three, against the wall the room shared with the living room. The man’s cavern overlaid the reality of the scene.

  His soul glowed bright gold, but not entirely. Grey veins snaked through the warm pulse of light. She wasn’t sure what that meant. She mentioned it to Will.

  “He’s an anculus, most likely. A Visci has influence over him, like Emilia had over me.”

  Mecca nodded and filed that away.

  They spent several minutes working out the logistics of leaving. Mecca, Will, and scientist guy would take the car in the driveway. The others would go in Zoey’s car. Zoey left Jorge with them while she went to get it, so he wouldn’t have to walk.

  “Where are we taking h
im?” Mecca asked, giving a nod to the silent scientist guy. Her dorm room was out, of course. She looked at Sara, who stood against the wall, holding her injured arm gingerly. Mecca realized both Jenny and Will had also turned toward Sara.

  Sara shook her head and winced. Blood had soaked through the makeshift bandage Will had made. Her face looked paler than normal. “No. I don’t want him in my house.” Apparently, getting shot had given her her fill of adventure.

  Will said, “Of course. We need to get you medical help anyway.” He eyed the bandage. “What about Zoey’s?”

  “We can go, but it’s small. We’ll have to get really tight with each other,” Jorge said. When everyone’s gaze swung to him, sitting on the table, he gave a weak grin. “We’re roommates. It’s a tiny, shitty apartment.”

  “We can take him to my house,” Jenny said abruptly.

  Mecca thought about Carolyn Barron, Jenny’s prim and proper mother, watching over their hostage. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “I think it’s the only option we have. My house is big. We can take him down to the wine cellar my parents never use. It’s full of boxes—Halloween and Christmas stuff—but we can clear enough space.” Jenny looked at Will. “What are we going to do with him?”

  And now Will fixed his gaze on scientist guy. “Well, we need information.”

  The other man remained silent.

  Did Will mean they were going to torture him? He couldn’t mean that. That was…crazy.

  Zoey came in the front door. “I’ve got the car. Jorge, come on.” She got beside him and helped him off the table.

  As Will filled Zoey in on the plan, Mecca took the opportunity to approach Jenny.

  “What’s your mom going to say?”

  Jenny shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe we won’t tell her.”

  She tried to imagine explaining that to Jenny’s mom.

  “Sooo…we’ve got this guy we need info from. Mind if we tie him up in your wine cellar? He won’t be a bother. Promise.”