One In A Million (The Millionth Trilogy Book 1)

by Tony Faggioli

  Parker handed the man his card. “This is important. If they come back, you have to call me immediately, okay? The man she’s with may be wanted.”

  “Oh. My.”

  He was like a damned parrot. One more time and Napoleon was going to have to hit him.

  “Got it?” Napoleon asked.

  “Why… yes. Of course.”

  When they were halfway out of the store, Parker spoke up. “How do you want to handle this? You want me to head to the beach and you take the bar?”

  It made perfect sense, but something told Napoleon otherwise. “No. This bastard… there’s something about him. We stick together. We take him down together.”

  If he disagreed, Parker did not show it. He simply stuck by Napoleon’s side as he turned left and descended a set of wooden steps to the beach below. “Beach first. Bar after. Let’s go with that. Besides, the beach will be easier to canvas,” Napoleon added, motioning with his head to the ocean. “Less people to deal with.”

  “Yeah. I only see a few families, that old man with his dog and—” Parker halted his pace along with his voice.

  “You see them too?” Napoleon asked, stopping alongside Parker.

  “By the rocks, at the foot of that hotel?”

  “Yep.”

  Night was falling, and from this distance they could have been anyone, but it was clear that they were a couple.

  And they were arguing.

  THEIR “DINNER” together at Bella Cuore began to look more and more like a date to Kyle as it wore on. Victoria met Sebastian at the Italian restaurant right on time, at the end of the pier, a quarter-mile from the boardwalk.

  When she arrived, she walked up to the restaurant with confidence and ease, seemingly at peace with the decision she was making.

  Sebastian was waiting for her out front, dressed in his youthful style. He wore dark slacks and black shoes with a white shirt that was unbuttoned, revealing a leather necklace with an onyx rock on his chest. His hair was slicked back, and maybe it was the darkness or the lighting of the restaurant, but his skin was more olive in tone.

  He also wore a big smile on his face, a youngster about to sink his claws into the cougar, with only the obligatory date meal in the way so she could respect herself in the morning.

  It took all Kyle’s strength not to walk up to them both, shove Victoria out of the way and pretty boy Sebastian into the wall. Kyle guessed that this wasn’t how his “mission” worked. This was her choice, evidently, but at some point he would get an opportunity to intervene, he just hadn’t figured out how or when yet.

  He felt an uneasy pain when Victoria smiled back at Sebastian and hugged him, Sebastian’s hand boldly lingering just above her butt and his thumb resting on the edge of her belt. She laughed and pushed him away gently. They were just pals on a night out. Her subsequent body language suggested to Kyle that she knew people in this town and would have to be careful.

  He lost sight of them when they went into the restaurant, and was considering how he could get inside without a reservation when they reappeared and were seated in the front window, in clear sight of where he was standing. Kyle sighed. Lucky break.

  The waiter pulled out Victoria’s chair, beating Sebastian to the punch. Score one for the good guys. They laughed and talked throughout the appetizer and meal that followed, while Kyle counted the glasses of wine being served. By dessert they were on their third.

  Kyle felt like a creep spying on them this way, but he knew he was just doing his job. After the alley fight, he decided he was done trying to figure out or plan any of this. He had to accept things as they happened, and this was especially true now that The Gray Man was gone.

  An hour passed, during which Kyle moved from the kiosk to a bench, then over to a parked car to try and keep from attracting attention. Victoria and Sebastian finished dessert and seemed to talk softly for a moment.

  Victoria lowered her chin and smiled. Sebastian chuckled, popped his eyebrows up, and then reached his hand ever so discreetly around the side of the table and closed it over Victoria’s. She let it linger there for a moment, then pulled it away as the waiter brought the check.

  Sebastian made a play for the check, but unless he was a rich kid doing his time at Starbucks before cashing out his trust fund, this restaurant was way beyond his means. Victoria took the check and put her credit card into the leather folder. She seemed a little nervous now, one foot fidgeting beneath the table. She pursed her lips and shrugged sweetly, holding Sebastian’s gaze just a little too long.

  Kyle wondered how far this would go. The Gray Man had said that he was supposed to stop her from making the same mistake he had. So it made sense that he would have to stop them from having sex.

  But only when it’s obvious they’re not going to turn back on their own.

  Fair enough. He was okay with that; though he imagined there was no way it was going to be easy.

  After they paid the check, Victoria excused herself, evidently to use the restroom, leaving Sebastian by himself at the table. Kyle expected Sebastian to pull out his cell phone and fire off an update text to his buddies about how close he was to getting some.

  Instead, Sebastian just stared at a piece of cheesecake stuck to the end of his fork.

  What’s next, you bastard? Kyle thought.

  The question seemed to travel across the plaza to the restaurant’s window. Sebastian stopped what he was doing and looked outside. Kyle waited, sure that he was out of sight, but surprised nonetheless. Had he just “nudged” his thoughts at Sebastian? Like The Gray Man would always do to him?

  What Kyle saw next ran a chill down his spine: Sebastian, still seated and alone, took the tip of his index finger and was slowly dipping it into the flame of the candle on the table. He flicked at it and, evidently having coated his finger in hot wax, seemed to take exquisite joy in the act. He pulled his finger back just as Victoria returned and they proceeded to leave the restaurant.

  They passed a much older couple on the way out and Victoria, taking notice that the man was struggling to walk with his cane, stopped to hold the door and help guide him in, her hand briefly holding his elbow. The woman with him smiled and thanked her.

  Once again, the decades between now and the time of Kyle and Victoria’s romance collapsed, except this time the memory he recalled was not glazed in melancholy or loss, but instead glowed with love.

  Victoria and Kyle’s brother Vinnie sat on the back patio of Kyle’s house each day after their homework was finished while Kyle would jabber with his buddies on the phone about fantasy baseball.

  By then Vinnie’s autism had taken so much, but not enough. His mind was intact just enough for Vinnie to know that he was different, too different to ever get a girl. When Kyle allowed himself to dwell on this as a young man, he would always shut out the thoughts; they were too much to bear.

  Vinnie was his little brother, but Vinnie was going to trapped in that role the rest of his life. He would never assume the titles of “college graduate” or “career man,” nor would he ever know what it was like to be a husband or a father. Though he loved his brother very much, Kyle could never see past the consequences of Vinnie’s special needs, or see any way to help him.

  But not Victoria. In her view, Vinnie was just as much a person as anybody else and his feelings were to be engaged and shared. The two of them developed quite the secret friendship, and when Kyle broke up with her, no one was more devastated than Vinnie.

  “She was my gufend toooo, youknew!” Vinnie screamed at him that day, a few weeks before Kyle left for college. Not knowing what to say, Kyle just hugged him, tears welling in both of their eyes as Kyle tried to explain that sometimes things just don’t work out.

  It was easy reasoning for someone who had such a blessing to squander, but to Vinnie it was beyond comprehension. He fell into a funk until the day before Kyle went to college, when Victoria called the house. Kyle assumed the call was for him, and was waving his mom off to say he wasn’
t home when his mother, surprised, simply said, “It’s for you, Vinnie.”

  After he went off to college, Kyle heard about the occasional call or letter from Victoria, and how Vinnie would always glow for a day or two afterwards. In time though, the calls and letters stopped. Victoria tried. But evidently life took over and she moved on too.

  Her laugh outside the restaurant pierced Kyle’s thoughts and brought him back to the moment, where Kyle found that his memories had brought tears to his eyes.

  “No. I’m serious. My roommates are all home,” Sebastian said to Victoria now that they were outside.

  Kyle was happy to be able to hear them again as they walked past him in debate. The previous hour or so had been like watching a silent movie as he’d watched them through the restaurant window.

  “My house?” Victoria said.

  “My car’s right down the street.”

  Victoria hesitated.

  Kyle held his breath. No. Don’t do it, Vicki.

  Sebastian looked at her with puppy-dog eyes, a look he had evidently mastered. It worked. She smiled and nodded. “No. We’ll take mine.”

  As they made their way down the street to Victoria’s car, Kyle crept out from behind his hiding spot and began to follow them, taking one last look at the restaurant. A neatly dressed busboy was clearing the table, the clangs of the silverware and plates muted, the evidence of Victoria and Sebastian’s dinner being wiped slowly away.

  Kyle suddenly recalled the only scripture he’d ever taken the trouble to memorize: “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face-to-face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known,” he whispered, just beneath his breath.

  The blue within him resonated in response to the words, this time much stronger than ever before, pure power, flooding his soul.

  The entire world was a window of glass it seemed, and what you saw and heard from one side was not the same as what was being seen and heard on the other.

  CHAPTER 30

  It was just past noon and for the last two hours she’d tried desperately to hold it, but she just couldn’t any longer. Tamara was going to pee her pants. Her talk with the detective had pushed her nerves and emotions over the edge.

  She was driving at a speed she hadn’t thought her car could even reach. She was nearly doubled over at the wheel, nauseous and cramping, when she saw a small rest stop up ahead.

  That can’t be all that safe, but screw it. I’m not going to do Kyle any good peeing all over myself.

  Braking as safely as she could, she took the turn into the rest stop still moving at about 30 mph, which jarred the car so hard that she bounced up and hit her head on the roof. She was shaking as she skidded into one of the parking spaces. It was an outright miracle that she didn’t just flip her SUV.

  As she got out of the car she was relieved to see a mother with her daughter, who appeared to be about nine, entering into the ladies room. She wondered where they’d come from since there were no other cars around.

  Holding her thighs tight, Tamara walked in tiny steps as fast as she could across the parking lot and to the bathroom door, her bladder threatening to burst. Once inside, she took the last stall, the mother and daughter having already occupied the other two. She sat down and let go with a relief that made her head spin.

  It’s okay. One minute off the road. Two minutes in here. One minute back on the road. Four minutes total. It’ll be okay. He’ll be okay.

  Finishing, she automatically reached for the toilet paper before realizing the stall was out of rolls. It didn’t matter, to hell with wiping.

  “Ew. What a dis-gusting thought!” a little voice said. Startled, Tamara was reaching down to pull up her pants when the little girl from the next stall scooted on her back across the floor and into Tamara’s stall, a roll of toilet paper in her hand, her face peering up at Tamara in mock horror.

  Tamara screamed and kicked her feet just as the child clutched for them. She was about to yell at her when she noticed the little girl’s face begin to melt, peeling back in thin layers. “Ow, Mommy! It’s happening again. Make it stop!” she screamed.

  “What the hell?” Tamara yelled, yanking her pants up and launching herself into the back corner of the stall.

  The girl stopped screaming and started whimpering before her mother finally answered. “It’s okay, honey. It’ll pass. We’ll take care of this little whore, and then we can go back to where it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

  Her voice cracked like embers on a dying fire, and Tamara was smothered in a wave of fear, the room going momentarily hazy.

  No. Don’t. You faint now and you die. Don’t. Do. It.

  She was just getting a grip when she looked down again. The mother’s feet were on the other side of the stall door now, facing Tamara. She was trapped.

  “When do I get to eat, Mama?” the girl said, her eyes now bulbous and draining, the sockets having mostly melted away to tiny red orbs.

  “Soon enough, baby. Don’t you worry.”

  Tamara screamed. “Help! Somebody help me!”

  The mother laughed and then sighed deeply. “Why… there it is. Sweet fear. Ahhhh,” she moaned. “And so soon, too.”

  Tamara looked down to see the little girl creeping further into the stall, sliding, no, slithering across the floor. Tamara’s fear multiplied. “Help me! Somebody! Please!”

  “Keep screaming. It’s okay. Or why not pray, honey? See what that gets you.”

  More laughter, but this time it was short-lived; a sudden sizzle of energy cracked into the room. The presence Tamara felt, it was just like the night before in her bedroom, when that… thing… had attacked her.

  It was real! If nothing else, this moment was proving that.

  A brief silence followed, and then the mother’s feet disappeared and a commotion broke out.

  “What’s happening?” Tamara moaned.

  What was happening was a fight of some kind. The night before she’d been paralyzed in bed, her eyelids forced shut, but this time she was going to see, even though something in her told her not to look.

  “Mom?” The little girl called out below her, and then, defying physics at a speed beyond imagination, she flipped onto her belly and scurried out of the stalls.

  “You get out!” the little girl was shouting at someone. “This is the ladies room. You’re not allowed in here! Get out! Get out! Get out!”

  Recognizing her chance, Tamara buttoned her pants, but just as she attempted to open the stall door something slammed into it, forcing a yelp out of her as she jumped back again.

  A reverberation moved through the room, rattling all the stall doors and making the floor roll in waves. A man’s voice, distinct and authoritative, commanded, “Be quiet, little liar.”

  “Don’t you speak to her that way,” the mother screamed, and then she began to speak in a cacophony of languages. Tamara recognized what she thought might be Italian, German and Japanese, but Spanish she knew for sure. The woman was calling the man Perro de Dios, Dog of God.

  Three loud booms shook the room, and something squealed in pain. Tamara couldn’t take it anymore.

  She flung the stall door open… and saw him.

  He stood tall and was rail thin, his hue of gray both surrounding him and emanating from him in dissipating waves. Just the sight of him made Tamara drop to her knees and remember the cathedrals in Bolivia with the stone depictions of his type. He was so beautiful and so frighteningly powerful that she began trembling in his presence.

  “She bows to you, and you aren’t even worthy yet,” the woman stuttered in complete disdain.

  “Who are you to decide who is worthy?” The Gray Man replied.

  Tamara couldn’t believe what she was seeing; her heart was going to burst. He was an angel. As she kneeled on the floor, Tamara’s body was awash in awe. It hurt to look at him, but she couldn’t look away.

  “I spit on you. I spit on your God!” the little girl cried, so melted away now that she
was made of mostly muscle and sinew. Her hair remained in patches on her head though, like that of a badly burned doll, with only a few tufts left to brush.

  “You, child, would spit on me? Aren’t you the one who murdered your best friend? She was only nine.”

  “Shut up!” the girl shrieked. “She was prettier than me. I hated, hated, hated her!”

  The Gray Man looked at her. “So what did you do? You knocked her over the head, didn’t you?”

  “Shut up!” the mother yelled.

  Ignoring her, The Gray Man continued to focus steadily on the little girl. “Then you left her there, in the shed, and you set it on fire.”

  “No!” The little girl flung herself at him.

  He swiped her away, knocking her effortlessly across the room and to the far wall.

  Enraged, the mother launched herself at him and grappled at his chest and throat, but he held her at bay, continuing his focus on the girl.

  “Come now, you hear the truth and still do not repent?”

  “I’ll eat you!” the little girl screamed and leaped onto one of the sinks. Her tongue slid in and out of her mouth, her eyes wide with hatred.

  The Gray Man was unimpressed. “You killed her because her mother was still alive and yours wasn’t, isn’t that right?”

  “You know nothing, God dog!” the mother clawed at him, scraping his face, forcing a wince.

  At last he turned his attention to the mother. “She killed for you, because of you, the town harlot who went and found herself a good man to seduce. A man who accidentally killed you in a car crash, after a drunken drive across town.”

  “Mama! Tell him to stop. Tell him no, Mama. Tell him it’s not true.”

  “You be quiet now, honey. I’ll make him go away. You watch.”

  “And where’s that man now, harlot?” The Gray Man asked as he established a tight grip on the woman’s upper torso. She kicked at him in desperation.

  “Oh, he thinks he’s safe. He’s hiding with that wife of his in the backwoods of North Carolina, limping to church and back every Sunday, because of the bad leg he got from the accident.” The woman snarled, her fangs mere inches from The Gray Man’s face, and continued, “As if that’s going to help him. I sit next to him every night, you know, on the edge of his armchair, and I whisper in his ear. Oh, do you know how easily he forgets his prayers, God dog? How easily I can get him to touch himself and still think of the sex I gave him, all those years ago?”