Freaking Off the Grid

by L. L. Muir

  “Jamie, lad!” he called out. “Come out here and tell the lass I'd never do aught to harm her. Tell her.” He was giving his grandson away and he didn't even know it.

  “Mr. Jamison,” she said quickly. “It was a false alarm. I'm fine. Really I am. Just go now. I know you're on my side. I believe you. Now hurry.”

  Worry still folded his ghostly brow, but he nodded. Eventually, he smiled and gave her a wink, flipped off Pilot, and dissolved.

  Pilot sighed. “There now. That wasn't so hard, was it?” He turned away from her and called toward the hallway. “Yes, Jamison. Join us. I insist.”

  After an excruciating minute, Jamison came barreling down the hallway, jumped down into the room and headed directly for her, but the two sentries who had let him into the apartment seemed to be back on Pilot's side. Either that or they were pretending to be. They led a struggling Jamison out before she could think of anything to say to him.

  Pilot left without a word, and Skye got to her feet and started pacing. She’d completely forgotten about Buchanan until she saw his white robes out of the corner of her eye and she squealed.

  She apologized. “I thought Pilot was back.”

  “Don’t worry,” Buchanan said softly. “They won’t hurt him. And maybe you both can get some rest.”

  Rest? How could anyone rest when the world had gone completely crazy? Ghosts, angels, mind-readers. A madman who now had Jamison back in his clutches. A Vegas showgirl serving jacked-up Kool-aid, guards changing sides from one minute to the next? Rooms that talk back at the press of a button, but promise not to be watching you…

  How could she dare close her eyes?

  On the other hand, if she did fall asleep, an old-fashioned nightmare might be a nice break from this impossible reality.

  She sighed and remembered she wasn’t alone. “Do you want to sleep on the couch?”

  Buchanan smiled. “We don’t need sleep, remember? I’m going to go check on things. I’ll come back later in the day, when the coast is clear.”

  But apparently, the coast never cleared.

  ~ ~ ~

  Captive inside her apartment, three days passed slowly. She learned nothing new by examining every inch of the place the first day, or by repeating the search on the second. The only way she’d ever figure out what was going on would be if someone explained it to her. But it would have to be someone she could trust, and at the moment, the list of people she trusted included one blond guy and one ghost.

  She wished a hundred times that she could have looked into Jamison’s eyes just once more. Then she’d beat herself up for being so obsessed with the guy, feeling bad for climbing all over him and all but begging him to kiss her. Who knew what he thought of her now?

  She was weak. The feel of his strong arms around her had been a powerful drug she could easily get addicted to. The idea of no longer facing the world alone had been just as intoxicating. And even if it was just wishful thinking, it had been nice to pretend that it was all true, that someone loved her—even if it was in a past life.

  But now she regretted it all. Maybe, if she’d never gotten so close to Jamison, she wouldn’t be going out of her mind with worry. Maybe her heart wouldn't be breaking for some kid she hadn't been in the same room with for more than an hour or so.

  “Maybe you've known him longer than that,” her mind whispered.

  Yeah? Well. Wouldn’t that be nice?

  But the real dilemma didn’t have anything to do with what may or may not have happened in a former life, or how attracted she was to a boy who claimed to be attracted to her very soul. The real problem was survival. From the details she could remember from the ceremony, she suspected Ruth and the rest had somehow been blown to smithereens in mid-air. There hadn’t been any body parts, no spray of blood, no proof, but even a Las Vegas show couldn’t have pulled off that disappearing act, complete with blinding light.

  Then again, there hadn’t seemed to be any explosives. No fallout. And except for a strange choral number, there’d been no trigger, no weapons. But even if the blinding light was just a trick to hide a traditional disappearing act, Ruth was apparently gone, and possibly dead, for betraying Gabriella.

  If there was only a fine line between Gabriella’s definitions of betrayal and defiance, would the punishment be the same?

  Pilot had obviously been stalling, waiting for the old ghost to show up and give them all away. Poor old Scot. Poor Jamison.

  Skye shook her head. Enough was enough. She'd wasted enough time regretting what was already done. No more. It was time to move on. Time to fight back. Time to stop wishing the insanity would end, and end it already.

  And if Pilot's best strategy was to try and turn her against the old ghost, her ally, it might be a good idea for her to do the same to him.

  ~ ~ ~

  Around lunchtime on the third day, just as Skye was planning how to talk her way past her guards, she was surprised by a visit from Gabriella. She was so glad to have someone to talk to, she could have hugged her. But then she remembered her plan.

  Once the woman sat, Skye asked her how her head was.

  “My head?” Gabriella frowned.

  “Pilot said you were having stress migraines. That at your age, stress can put you down for days.”

  The woman blinked at the word age, but it might have been a coincidence.

  “Did he, now? Well. He was covering for me, of course. I left the mountain for a few days to conduct business. Perhaps he didn't want anyone to know I wasn't on site.”

  “Oh, well. If you were gone, I guess that explains why he was talking so freely.”

  “Freely? What do you mean?”

  Skye shrugged. “I don't know. He was just a lot...friendlier, I guess, with the boss out of the office and all.” She straightened like she'd just thought of something. “I'm sorry. Maybe I was wrong. Is he the boss, or are you?”

  Gabriella smiled patiently. “We share that role. We always have. But he did have this fortress built for me, so I suppose it's mine.”

  “And are you in love with him? Like he said?”

  Gabriella laughed. It took her a moment to get a hold of herself and she was still suppressing a giggle when she answered. “You must have misunderstood. I'm not in love with Pilot.”

  “Oh. I'm sorry.” Skye put on her best embarrassed face. “Maybe it was the other way around. It was days ago, when he came the first time. I'm not remembering clearly.”

  “Well, I doubt Pilot is in love with me. He's devoted, of course. He promised, in our past life, that he would find me and stay with me as long as I needed him. But it is not a romantic love. He's an angel, remember?”

  “Oh, I don't know. The way he talked about it, I was thinking romance, you know? And besides, you said yourself you and some other angel were in love, and then he betrayed you, right? So if you were capable of romantic love, then why not Pilot?”

  Gabriella rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I would much rather hear how you've been getting along. How do you like our underground city?”

  Skye wasn't going to fall into that trap again.

  “I have no idea. I've seen nothing since you locked me in here.”

  “Oh, come now. I know you and Jamison were alone together. Tell me about that. Did he admit to his betrayal of you? Did he use his wiles to convince you to forgive him?”

  “He told me about the same thing you did. Then we were interrupted by Pilot.”

  Gabriella tilted her head and watched her for a moment. Her eyes sparkled with interest. “And did he tell you he loves you?”

  “No. He didn’t. I’m sure he knew I wouldn’t believe him if he did.”

  The woman smiled. “Smart girl.”

  “Yes. I’m a smart girl. And it’s time you told me the rest of it. I’m not going to be interested in anything you’ve got to show me until you tell me what’s going on. You wouldn’t want me to pretend, would you?”

  Gabriella’s smile broadened. “No. I wouldn’t.”
Her voice lost some of its patronizing quality. She leaned forward and pressed the button on the coffee table between them. “We’ll have lunch here.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” a woman replied.

  She sat back again. “I’ll start with my story then.”

  Skye nodded and leaned to the side against the couch pillow, settling in for as long as it took.

  “When I was ten,” Gabriella began, “my parents died.”

  Skye didn’t mention the coincidence, assuming the woman already knew that she lost both parents at the same age.

  “That’s when Pilot found me. I was alone. No other family. He had an amazing story to tell me about angels, and God, and Somerleds… And a little prophecy about an angel called Gabriella Somerled. A Primary named Lanny was warned this particular Somerled would lead a rebellion and replace her. But that wouldn’t be possible if this Gabriella,” she pointed to herself, “was no longer a Somerled. And the only way to change me, to make me forget about the Final Host altogether, was to coerce me into choosing mortality.

  “A mortal child, born into the world, would have no memory of The Final Host or any ambitions to lead them. But you see, no one, not even Lanny, can force a Somerled to make that choice. So she had to entice me.”

  The story was becoming familiar enough that Skye was able to follow along. But she wasn’t happy about it. She didn’t want any of the insanity to be true, even if it was Jamison’s reason to come looking for her. She just wanted the world back the way it was, where the bad guys were mortal creeps who could be dealt with rationally, or walked away from.

  Gabriella was watching her, waiting.

  “Okay,” Skye said. “So how did she entice you?”

  “She ordered a Somerled named Buchanan steal my heart.”

  Skye swallowed her shock and kept her expression under control. Buchanan had said nothing about any relationship. But they hadn’t had much time to chat about personal things.

  “He convinced me,” Gabriella continued, “that he, too, would choose mortality. Pilot—who was our mutual friend—promised to find us and bring us together again, as mortals. He vowed to remind us of our Somerled history and more significantly, to help us remember that in our past lives, we’d been madly in love.”

  Skye recognized the problem. “But Lanny couldn’t have wanted that. It would remind you of the Final Host and you’d be a threat again.”

  Gabriella smiled. “Exactly. But I knew nothing of the prophecy. I had no ambitions. So I believed all Buchanan said. And so did Pilot.”

  “So what happened?”

  “My then-current assignment, as a Somerled, ended first. I was sent back to the pre-mortal realm to make my decision—to accept my next assignment, or to demand my mortality, which I did.”

  “According to Pilot.”

  Gabriella nodded. “Immediately afterwards, Lanny took Pilot into her confidence. She and Buchanan explained why they’d sent me away and why there would be no need for him to bring Buchanan and me together again. Ultimately, Buchanan had no intention of choosing mortality for a long while.”

  “So that’s how you were betrayed.”

  “Yes.” She took a deep breath and released it with a shudder.

  Skye frowned. “But Pilot found you anyway.”

  Gabriella forced a smile, giving Skye the impression that she wasn’t completely happy with the way things turned out, which would explain why she’d laughed earlier at the suggestion she was in love with Pilot.

  “Yes. He, at least, was loyal. He was appalled by Buchanan’s deception and left his post to find me. It took him ten years of searching.”

  “You don’t think it’s a coincidence that he found you the same time your parents died?”

  Gabriella frowned. “It wasn’t as if it were the next day. He found me months later…” She shook her head, but a little of her frown remained and Skye wondered if the coincidence had really never been examined before. Coincidences, to her, were as suspicious as déjà vu.

  Her stomach fell when she thought about the other coincidence—that she’d lost her parents at exactly the same age Gabriella had. And if Pilot was capable of killing one set of parents…

  She didn’t dare let on that she suspected anything. After all, it might have been Gabriella herself who thought such a coincidence might help them bond. Skye forced herself to set the idea aside to think about later. She wasn’t going to fall apart in front of the enemy.

  Gabriella hadn’t noticed any change and was still chatting away.

  “In any case, he took care of me, saw to my education, etcetera, until I decided I wanted revenge against Lanny and I’d take it in any form possible.”

  Skye shook off her daze and forced herself to engage in the conversation. “But she’s an angel. And so is Buchanan, right? How can you hurt an angel?”

  “Exactly. So I stole their workers away. We discovered this gorgeous cavern, and with the combination of casinos and one immortal, Pilot, we drained Las Vegas of all of its… Let’s call it disposable income.”

  That didn’t explain all the people in the cavern who weren’t dressed in white robes, but Skye couldn’t very well ask about them, since she supposedly hadn’t left her rooms.

  “So, you’re keeping a bunch of Somerleds from performing their duties?”

  Gabriella grinned. “A bunch, yes.”

  “But the only ones who suffer are the people they’re supposed to be helping, right? How does that punish Lanny?”

  A knock sounded at the door and Skye jumped to her feet.

  Gabriella laughed. “It’s just lunch, my dear.” She looked over her shoulder at the Somerled pushing a cart to the edge of the step and waved for her to put the food on the coffee table. She sat with hands in her lap until the servant had gone.

  Skye was careful not to make any eye contact. She wasn’t about to let another one be punished for trying to help her.

  “Let’s not get maudlin, Skye,” the woman said after the door finally closed. “I’m not denying anything to those people on their knees, praying for help. I’m making it difficult for Lanny to fill those assignments. Difficult, not impossible. And one day, all this fuss will get God’s attention. Then Lanny, and Buchanan, will be held accountable.”

  “But you don’t care if you are?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Maudlin, again.” She poured herself a glass of wine and held it up as if to give a toast. “Prophecy, apparently, shouldn’t be trifled with.”

  They ate in silence. The Waldorf salad was the best thing Skye had eaten in years. Maybe ever. But she couldn’t let the food distract her while she tried to get a step or two ahead of her hostess.

  Everything Gabriella believed had come from Pilot. Jamison had mentioned Lanny, so Skye assumed it was the same woman, and she couldn’t help but wonder if everyone was telling the truth. So far, she’d heard nothing contradictory. But as she found herself growing hopeful, she forced herself to settle down, acknowledging that what she really wished was for Jamison to have loved her in another life.

  Pathetic.

  What good would it be to have been loved in a past life? When it would be so much better to be loved in this one?

  Yes. She was pathetic. But maybe pathetic was something Gabriella was counting on. She wondered why the trials in her life had suddenly escalated. She’d been turned away from her save haven at Michael’s. Robbed. And now she might be sitting across from the woman who had her parents killed. Did God really expect her to forgive it all?

  Skye drained her water goblet, wiped her mouth and set her plate and napkin aside. “Let’s cut to the chase. What do you think happened between Jamison and me? And how do you know it’s true if Pilot is your only source of information?”

  Gabriella patted her mouth and smoothed her napkin on the coffee table. She frowned like she was either choosing her words carefully, or she wasn’t happy with the question. Skye couldn’t tell which.

  Long, flashy fingernails pushed the button on the table,
but nothing was said. A minute later, the servant was back. Again, they waited in silence until they were alone.

  “You don’t like Pilot much, do you?” Gabriella said, finally.

  “I don’t like to dislike people. But no, I’m not a fan.”

  The woman snickered. “Well, he’s not a fan of yours, either. He thinks I’m too fond of you already.”

  Skye ignored the comment that was most likely meant to soften her. “You told me our stories are the same.”

  “Oh, they are. They are. When we…I mean, Pilot learned about you, through his contacts in the Somerled community, we were intrigued. That Lanny was behind your betrayal was no surprise, but what caught our interest was that the boy she’d used to lure you into giving up your mortality was human. And a human can most definitely be punished.”

  “He wasn’t in love with me, then?” Skye wished she could take back the question as soon as it escaped her mouth. But judging from the look of pure pity on Gabriella’s face, it was already working for her.

  “No, sweetheart. He wasn’t in love with you. He was hired to pretend, to steal your heart as Buchanan stole mine.”

  Skye’s stomach took an invisible punch at the suggestion, even though she didn’t believe it. When she was in control of herself, she found another question that demanded an answer.

  “So you’re saying there was a prophecy about me, too?” No way was she going to believe it.

  “Yes, though we don’t know the specifics.”

  How convenient.

  She was overwhelmed by relief. The strain of trying to wrap her head around it all was gone. Some, if not all of it, was bullshit. But she had to keep playing the game.

  “But if I was human, and didn’t remember anything, why did Jamison need to come looking for me?”

  Gabriella shrugged, that pitying look still on her face. “Because Lanny sent him. When she knew that we’d located you, thanks to the old man, she sent Jamison to destroy you. Lanny is afraid of what we can do together, against her.”

  The woman got to her feet and began pacing. The tiny heels of her shoes barely made a dent in the thick, cream carpet. Her eyes flashed with growing excitement and Skye realized Gabriella’s passion for revenge was taking over. There would be no reasoning with her now.