Freaking Off the Grid

by L. L. Muir

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  “Come,” Gabriella called to Skye. “Let me introduce you.” She walked to the shallow wall of the arena and started up the steps. Three levels up, she circled around and headed back to the stage. When she realized Skye wasn’t following, she appeared genuinely surprised. “Come on.”

  Skye shook her head. “I won’t leave him.”

  “Oh, come now,” the woman chided. “Who’s going to hurt him?” She pointed at the Somerleds by the doors. “They certainly won’t come any closer.”

  “Go,” Jamison whispered. “She likes to believe she’s in charge. We’ll have to play her game.”

  Skye considered it for a minute and then realized he was right. Besides, she needed to remember what Buchanan had said, that she wasn’t without some influence on the woman. And with both angels out of her life, Gabriella might consider Skye as the only remaining friend.

  She gave Jamison’s hand a quick squeeze. Though she intended to play the game, she couldn’t keep her eyes off him while she circled the room and made her way to Gabriella’s side.

  The woman was delighted. She held up an arm. Skye walked under it and was rewarded with a hug around the shoulders.

  “Thank you,” Gabriella murmured, then took a step to the side and raised her arms to the crowd. “My people. This,” she pointed to Skye, “is Skye Somerled.” Her smile disappeared when thousands of the people in street clothes jumped to their feet and cheered. She looked sharply at Skye, who had no idea what the problem was. Then, ever so carefully, the smile slid back into place.

  The cheers faded, but the faces never lost their excitement.

  “People, please.” Gabriella raised her hands again. “In light of everything that has happened thus far, don’t you think you should buckle up? Just in case?”

  She looked at the crowd on the mezzanine. “You volunteers, I need you to go around and make sure everyone is safe. Would you do that for me?”

  “Don’t do it!” Jamison shouted.

  She waved the closest Somerled to her. It was the kid who could shove people and angels alike without ever touching them.

  “Gag him.” The woman stared at Skye, daring her to complain. It was clear Gabriella wasn’t on anyone’s side but her own.

  The kid nodded and hurried to do Gabriella’s bidding, oblivious to the danger from the caged Somerleds.

  Complaining would earn Skye nothing. She only wished she was still at Jamison’s side. No matter what happened, they should be together. She knew it in her bones, maybe even her soul. The thought of getting out of the mountain didn’t matter as much as getting back to Jamison.

  What she really needed was the controller from Gabriella’s pocket. She couldn’t get her hands on it unless she could get the woman to drop her guard again, like she’d done with Buchanan. But could she do that on her own? Was Buchanan right about Skye having some influence on her? And if she did, was it just because the other woman was so certain their stories were the same?

  Maybe a little reminder would go a long way…

  She faced Gabriella. “Do you know why Buchanan came here?”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed to slits and her nostrils flared. “I warn you. Do not say that name to me again.”

  Skye shrugged a shoulder. “Fine. I won’t say his name. But do you know why he came?”

  “To destroy me. And that’s the end of it.”

  Skye shook her head. “No. He came because the two of you belonged together. No matter what happened, good or bad, he needed to be with you. And I’m sad for you. You came so close to believing, but you failed. And everything he did for you was in vain.”

  She stepped backward, putting distance between herself and Gabriella as deliberately as possible. After four steps, she stopped. The woman rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Jamison, but Skye could tell she wasn’t happy with her little display.

  Bringing up Buchanan had done nothing to soften her. Stepping away from her hadn’t hurt her feelings. And in the cold pit of her stomach, Skye realized she was powerless.

  In the arena, the Somerled took a shirt off one of the young men in the front row of seats and ripped it. Jamison kept on shouting his warnings until the gray cloth was shoved between his teeth. His chest heaved like crazy while he watched Gabriella’s new recruits walking up and down the rows, making sure everyone was restrained.

  Apparently, the woman preferred a captive, silent audience.

  Finally, the white-gray robes stopped moving and the wearers gave Gabriella a thumbs-up. Gabriella raised her hands in the air again. Light bounced off the crystals of her wide, blue sleeves.

  “We are betrayed, yet again!” She pointed at Jamison. “This man has sent hundreds of our precious angels to Purgatory. Thanks to his lies, and to you rebels,” she waved a hand at the sections of defiant angels, “they have been robbed of their immortality! Just as you mortals were robbed.

  “When the dawn comes, we will mourn. But first, the liar will pay…with his life, and surely, with his soul.”

  Skye retraced a couple of steps, which pleased Gabriella immensely. But the only card Skye had left to play was honesty.

  “Please don’t do this,” Skye said. “Jamison and I belong together. There must be some way you can let us go.”

  Gabriella’s smile fell and her eyes narrowed again. “What? You think you should get your happy ending when I cannot? Think again,” she snarled.

  Skye realized the woman wasn’t completely insane, she was heartbroken. Teased with the hope that she and her soul mate could be together again, Gabriella then lost Buchanan in an epic betrayal by Pilot, the man who had been her confidant all her life, and had been betraying her the whole time. She was lashing out, making sure she wasn’t the only one hurt.

  Skye understood, but she couldn’t think of any hope to give her.

  “I’m sorry for you loss, Gabriella. I really am. But killing Jamison won’t bring Buchanan back.”

  Laughter burst from Gabriella and then bubbled to a chuckle as she groped at her skirts. Fresh triumph lit her eyes when she pulled out a gnarly looking dagger with a pale turquoise jewel in the handle.

  “Please, my dear Skye. Stop assigning romantic notions to my actions. I promise you this dagger was designed and intended for Jamison all along. His death has nothing to do with Buchanan. A few delicious minutes from now, this blade will be plunged into the boy’s heart, as is its destiny.”

  “Oh? Why is that? Another prophecy?”

  “No. A carefully planned fact. But there is one problem.” She took a step toward Skye.

  Skye held her ground like an idiot, because, if there was a chance she could get the dagger or controller away from Gabriella, she had to stay and fight.

  “What problem?” Skye started circling her. “Other than the fact that I won’t let you kill him?”

  Gabriella’s cheek dimpled as she began circling too. “Oh, I’m not going to kill him, my dear. You are. Now it’s your problem, you see?” She turned suddenly and the swirl of the blue dress confused Skye for second, and in that second, Gabriella closed the distance between them. But the woman didn’t hurt her, as she half-expected. She reached out and clamped tightly around Skye’s middle and pulled her back against her.

  Skye recoiled from both her touch and her suggestion. She couldn’t pretend not to be horrified. And apparently, Gabriella had expected nothing less. That mask had slipped again, only this time, the woman didn’t care that Skye saw how evil she truly was.

  Skye stopped struggling. “I won’t do it,” she said. “You know I won’t do it. So why do you even say it?”

  The woman smiled sweetly over her shoulder. “You will do it, my dear. For two reasons. If someone else does it, you’ll regret it. A day or two from now, when you finally understand what he’s done to you, you’re going to wish you’d been the one to spill his blood.”

  She jerked Skye around so they were both facing their quiet audience, then she rested her chin on
Skye’s shoulder like they were chummy. Holding the dagger arm out straight, she lifted one long finger and pointed at everyone still bound in their seats.

  “And if you don’t do as I say, water will flood this coliseum, and all of these former angels will die,” she whispered, “along with Jamison. Can you imagine how horrible it must be to watch the people in the row in front of you struggle and drown just as the water rises up to your own knees?”

  Skye looked out at the faces. So many young people. So many anxious faces. So many knees.

  “And the shock,” the woman continued dramatically, “when the cold water hits your stomach.” She sucked air between her teeth. “By then, of course, the ones in front would have ceased thrashing around. And then it would be your turn. The beauty of it all would be knowing exactly what was coming.” Gabriella sighed. “Can you imagine?”

  “But why?” Skye tried to shrug off the woman’s grip, but she couldn’t do it. “Why does anyone need to die? Pilot lied about the prophecy. You can’t kill everyone because of a story that wasn’t even true. Ahh!”

  Gabriella’s sharp fingernails bit through Skye’s sleeve and deep into her arm and held. Skye was scared the woman would rip open the entire limb if she didn’t hold perfectly still.

  “For all I know,” the woman hissed, “that wasn’t Buchanan at all. Perhaps Pilot was testing me. I failed the test, of course, but Pilot failed me too. And now he’s paying for it. He’s in Hell and I’m… I’m simply going to have to enjoy my moment of victory without him.”

  She carefully withdrew her bloody fingernails, wiped them on Skye’s sleeve, then patted her arm.

  “I’ve waited all my life for retribution. I’ve been waiting, since you were born, to exact my vengeance through you. It makes no matter that the story has changed.” She shrugged. “I was robbed. Jamison will pay the price. His blood will be on your hands, so you will pay as well, eventually. And even if all those Somerleds who have passed through my ceiling haven’t gone to Purgatory, I will be satisfied knowing I have stolen one soul,” she touched her pointer finger to Skye’s chest, “from Lanny’s collection.

  “Yes, I will settle for your soul and Jamison’s life. Or Jamison and thousands of lives. You choose. But you must choose now.”

  Skye swallowed. “If I… If I…” She couldn’t say it, how was she going to do it? “You’ll let them all go?”

  Gabriella was pleased, suspecting the decision had already been made.

  “Yes. If you kill Lanny’s Trojan horse—a strike through the heart—I will let them all go. And I’ll let you go too, if you can stand the bright light of day. If you decide to stay here, with me, I’ll help you get used to your new skin.” She touched the backs of her still-bloody fingernails to Skye’s cheek in a sick caress. “Who knows, maybe we’ll find some form of contentment together.”

  Skye batted her hand away. “If you think I’ll sit around and paint your toenails for you, you’re dead wrong.”

  “Choose,” Gabriella voice boomed. “It should be a simple decision, since Jamison will drown too.”

  “I need a guarantee.”

  “Fine.”

  “I want to know how those restraints are released. I want proof you won’t leave everyone to die after you have what you want.”

  Gabriella rolled her eyes, then pulled the little screen out of her pocket. I’ll have it open right here. One tap for the seats, another to release the water. What you do determines which one I push. I promise to push one or the other. You’ll just have to trust me.”

  There they were—the controller in one hand, the dagger in the other. All she had to do was grab—

  Gabriella stepped back, equally aware of the temptation.

  Skye forced herself to look away. “And where will the water come from?”

  “Lake Mead, of course. We’ll just drain a little off the bottom…if you fail.”

  “Got it.” Skye held out a hand for the dagger. Why Gabriella trusted her not to use the dagger on her, she couldn’t guess.

  “You’ll do it, then?”

  “I have no choice.”

  “You’re right. You don’t. But one day, you may forgive me. One day, when you’re feeling your own death stalking you, lying in wait at your feet, you’ll remember that Jamison Shaw once stole your immortality. No matter what you die of, he’ll be to blame. But at least you will have killed him for it.”

  “Don’t count on it. I’m not the type to hold grudges.”

  Gabriella barked with laughter. “No? Pilot told me you’ve been plotting the murder of your foster father. I’m pretty sure you hold grudges.”

  Blair the Creep. How sad was it that Pilot had found that thought in her head—the one where she imagined him walking down the street in Michael’s neighborhood where she might be able to run him down with her car. How scary for that image to be so clear in her mind that Pilot had been able to see it too.

  A heavy weight was suddenly placed in her open hand and she wrapped her fingers around the dagger’s handle to keep it from falling. Gabriella moved farther out of reach. Apparently she knew Skye was too shocked to react quickly. The chance to attack the woman had passed.

  “Go on.” Gabriella pointed at the first step that would take her back to Jamison’s side.

  Skye pulled her pajama pants up high so she didn’t trip on the steps, then started down, praying constantly for a miracle.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Jamison wiggled beneath the bands that held him. His muscles were stiff from being held motionless for so long. If Gabriella was going to kill him, he wished she would let him get up and stretch a bit first, but there was no use asking.

  He’d given up trying to hear what Skye and Gabriella were discussing on the stage and attempted, with facial gestures alone, to get the attention, if not the sympathy, of the Hearts. There were only five Spades left, and the Clubs were all up on the mezzanine. Could no one count?

  But even without a sweaty, stinking t-shirt shoved into his mouth he hadn’t been able to convince any of them to disobey orders. Maybe they’d just been captive so long there was no defiance left in them.

  There was movement on the stairs. White robe. It was Skye! He hoped she’d been able to talk Gabriella into handing over a key to unlocking the altar restraints. She was a smart girl. She would have figured out a way.

  But she wasn’t carrying a key.

  With the handle in one hand and the point laying across her other palm, she brought a dagger to the party. He would have laughed if she didn’t have a sick look on her face that said, You’re really not going to like this. Her mouth was moving a mile a minute, but no words came out. Had Gabriella’s insanity rubbed off on her?

  When she got within five feet of the altar, he couldn’t help pulling away from her as far as the bands would allow.

  “Jamison,” she finally whispered. “We’re in trouble. She says if I don’t kill you, she’s going to flood the place. All these people will drown! You will drown!”

  Against all logic, he relaxed. She’d said we’re in trouble. And we was a good sign. It was also a good sign that she hadn’t raised the dagger in the air—at least not yet.

  She pulled out his gag and set it aside.

  “I love you,” he said, just in case he didn’t get the chance to say it again.

  “Since folks’ll perish before the lass gets around to repeating the sentiment, I’ll interrupt.”

  “Granddad!” Jamison whispered, just in case the man wasn’t visible to everyone.

  “Mr. Jamison!” Skye whispered too. “Can you help us?”

  “Aye, aye. I’ve already caused a laddie to fear for his salvation if he doesn’t get himself below that stage and open the wee door yonder. I reckon it will take him another minute or two. I told him about the knob on the wall. You’ll need to stall, of course.”

  Skye shook her head. “That’s not our only problem.”

  The old man quirked his eyebrows at her. “I believe it is.”


  “But these people. We’ve got to get them unlocked or they’ll drown.”

  The old man rolled his eyes and he shook his head. “A bit of faith, lassie, if you don’t mind.” His eyes stopped rolling and flew wide, then he ducked behind the altar. “Stall!”

  “Do you need a drumroll or something, Skye?” Gabriella taunted. “My trigger finger is getting a little itchy.”

  Skye turned. “I can’t harden my heart as quickly as you can, Gabs. It’s going to take me a minute or two to make my peace with him, okay?” Then she turned back and winked at Jamison.

  He tried really hard not to smile.

  “Do you think he has a plan,” Skye whispered, “for unlocking the seats?”

  He imagined his grandpa down in the catacombs, trying to cheer up the Hearts, saying whatever he had to in order to keep their spirits up. Buchanan said he couldn’t have known the future, so he had to have been lying through his hat. Jamison was afraid he was doing the same thing now.

  Skye was waiting for an answer.

  “Yes. I’m sure he has a plan,” he lied.

  She grinned and threw herself across his middle and pretended to weep. Her acting stunk so bad he was almost embarrassed.

  “Time’s up, Skye. Execute your betrayer. I’ll give you ten seconds… One.”

  The ceiling began to open and all eyes lifted, then turned away from the painfully bright light of the late afternoon sun. After Skye’s eyes adjusted, she squinted and looked again. The blue sky seemed so far away.

  “Two.”

  Skye’s gaze dropped to his again and she bit her lip.

  “Three.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. The bands are going to open—”

  “Four.”

  “And we’re going to get the hell out of here—”

  “Five.”

  “Together.”

  Grandpa’s ghost peeked over Jamison’s arm. “I’ll just pop over and see what’s keeping the lad—”

  “Six.”

  The whirring of little motors cut through the air like a droning chorus of its own and Skye had to step back so the band around Jamison’s middle could rise with the rest.