Pestilence Rising Read online

  Chapter 4

   

  The next morning, I opened the curtains to clouds hanging low over the field behind the motel. A thick, persistent mist drenched an already waterlogged countryside.

  Celeste was quiet while we dressed to leave. I felt her watching me as I packed up. She was afraid I was going to take off again. That concern wasn't too far out of the realm of possibility. I didn't like feeling trapped. I'd had enough of being intimidated.

  A flier on the television stand advertised a diner at the west end of the building. I needed substantial food before I went anywhere. We had passed the night without a Gideon-related incident, so I figured we would be okay to stick around long enough to get some eggs in our stomachs before we took off.

  I slung the backpack over my shoulder, and we walked together in pensive silence. I caught myself checking the windows for signs of the woman I'd seen the night before, the bringer of stars. I wanted to return to that field, to the galaxy of warmth and the wild dogs at my feet. What would have happened if Celeste hadn't interrupted?

  The woman wasn't there that morning, but I did catch faint impressions of the glyphs from her tattoos in the windows we passed. Like the stars, Celeste couldn't see it. I decided not to tell her anything further about these miracles for fear she would somehow steal the magic from me. These events were signs that I was connected to something. I needed to hold onto it, at least until I figured out what it was.

  Our Center SUV sat untouched, right where I'd left it the previous night. I hoped that meant we had lost Gideon for good. I didn’t know what the range on the EMF detectors was. Maybe we had gained enough distance that he wouldn't be able to find us. That was a beautiful thought - freedom from Gideon. He wasn't as heartless as other Center agents could be, but he was still an asshole.

  I dropped off the keys at the office and checked us out. The old man and the smoking blond were replaced by a mild-mannered guy in a Rolling Stones shirt. He advised us to try the ham omelet in the diner but to steer clear of the cinnamon grits.

  “What are grits?” Celeste asked when we were outside.

  “Trust me, you don't want those.”

  The diner color scheme clashed with that of the motel to which it was attached. The awning was striped blue, green and yellow. A teenager in an apron with matching stripes met us at the door. She had a cheerleader smile and menus clutched to her chest.

  “Good morning!” She was the polar opposite of the woman from the motel office graveyard shift. “You must be Hunter.”

  My stomach dropped.

  “How do you know my name?”

  “Your friends are already here. Come on. I'll show you to the table.” She turned and practically skipped ahead.

  Celeste said into my ear, “You go sit down. I will assess the situation and join you.”

  The waitress prattled on, unaware of the panic settling over me, “Our hostess called in sick today, so I'm on double-duty. I don't mind, though. It's not too busy today 'cause of the flooding. Where're y'all from?”

  “Chicago.”

  Gideon couldn't be there, no way. He would've stormed our room. He would have broken windows, kicked down the door and beat the crap out of me, especially after the way we left him in the alley. He wouldn't wait idly in a diner on the possibility that we might show up. Could he be that cocky? Was I that predictable?

  “My sister goes to Loyola University. She says the boys are super cute, but they're all players. I'm Felicia, by the way.”

  I followed her through the tables and chairs. Other diners were older people, some farmer types. A corner table held four enthusiastic oldsters whose gossip about the locals was loud enough reach across the room. A chrome and glass case to the right held pies, bagels and cinnamon rolls that I could smell as we moved by. Beyond an open door behind the dessert counter, a man in a hair net worked a grill. No part of my surroundings gave an indication of the presence of danger.

  We came to a wall composed primarily of shelves displaying country knickknacks like ceramic roosters, painted pigs, and various arrangements of plastic fruit, then entered a secondary dining room. I stopped. I can't say who I wanted to find there, maybe the woman from the glass. My brother would have been even better, not because I missed him, but because this ordeal with Celeste would be over.

  Gideon wiped his mouth with a napkin and motioned to the seat across from him in the booth by the window.

  “Morning, sunshine.” He said.

  Several men dressed all in black were scattered around the room, some sitting, some standing, one stationed near Gideon. Nigel sat next to him, grinning stupidly with gappy teeth. The partners both wore their usual suits and cop-style aviator sunglasses. They made a lovely couple.

  I put down the backpack and reluctantly slid into the bench across from them.

  “What can I get you to drink?” Felicia handed me a menu and placed the other one on the table for Celeste.

  “Coffee and water. She'll have water.”

  Do angels drink coffee?

  “Great. Be right back.” Felicia left for the kitchen.

  I could have taken them all out with the sickness, but the armed enforcers were mingled with the regular people just trying to eat their breakfasts. I wasn't ready to murder a bunch of innocents for my own well-being. Gideon surrounded us with civilians to discourage me from ravaging them again.

  He said, “We considered breaking down the door while you slept this morning. Nigel was certain you would stop in here for a bite before you left. Good thing because I was fricking starving after driving for hours to catch up with your asses. I highly recommend the ham omelet.”

  “I hear it's good”

  “Where's the girl?”

  “She's around.”

  “You must know she isn't an angel, right?”

  “I don't know what she is.”

  He took some bites of his breakfast, then said, “She's just as crazy as the rest of them. Do you remember that guy in Nevada?”

  “The gamer?”

  Nigel snort-laughed.

  Gideon put his fork on his plate, “Calvin. He literally thought he was God. He had even developed an impressive following in World of Warcraft. They were a bunch of nerds, but followers are followers. Am I right?”

  “She has wings.” I was still pissed but for some reason, I felt the need to defend her. Part of me wanted her to be an angel. Or part of me didn't want Gideon, of all people, to take that away from her.

  He laughed, “Those aren't wings. She probably glued a bunch of sticks to her back. Really, that's some fake shit, like old school special effects. In fact, I don't think I would even give them that level of credibility. It's pathetic.”

  “She was strong enough to give your guys a good ass-beating.” I nodded at the closest enforcer who had a bruised face.

  “You're following the female equivalent of Calvin. That makes you a moron. She isn't worth all this trouble. She isn't worth you risking your life.”

  “Now you're feeding me a line. You don't know what she is any more than I do.”

  Felicia delivered our drinks. I ordered a couple of ham omelets. We still needed to eat, and Gideon didn't appear to be in the mood to snatch us and run.

  Celeste came into the room, eyeing each of Gideon's men warily. They allowed her to sit on the bench next to me. She communicated everything she needed to with a look and a slight shake of her head. She didn't find a smooth way out.

  “We're happy you could join us this morning.” Gideon said with the most condescending tone he could muster. “We're going to take you to a place with other people who are just as special as you are.”

  She glared at him over the table, saying nothing.

  Nigel spoke up, “What was that language you were speaking last night?” He pulled his phone from his breast pocket and played a recording of her voice for her. Other restaurant patrons, who had been polite enough to pretend they weren't eavesdropping, stopped eating and talking to listen more i
ntently. The room fell silent with the exception of her words coming from his phone.

  I was surprised no one had questioned what Gideon's men were doing there. I half-expected someone to call the cops or something, but they didn’t. They preferred to let the show go on.

  He added, “We ran it through the system. It's nothing. It's gibberish, isn't it?”

  He awaited this confirmation of his theory with the eagerness of a know-it-all in need of validation.

  “My language doesn't matter, and I'm not coming with you.” This defiance was stated calmly.

  Gideon narrowed his eyes at her. I loved that he couldn't figure her out.

  Felicia brought our plates. Celeste and I dug in like we were starving. I didn't care if Gideon and Nigel were there; the omelet tasted amazing. Rolling Stones t-shirt guy was right.

  The cellular phone in my pocket vibrated, which was weird because I had turned it off like Teag advised me to do. I didn't want to take a call in front of Gideon.

  “I have to take a leak.” I edged Celeste out of the booth.

  All Center personnel in the room tensed.

  “That's not a good idea.” Nigel said.

  “I think it is a good idea, unless you want me to pee here or maybe in the truck on the way to the Center. Where am I going to go? Enforcers are posted everywhere. It's like the Secret Service up in here.”

  Gideon signaled the guards to let me through. A particularly burly one with tribal tattoos up both bulging forearms and a spike haircut escorted me.

  The men's room was just past the kitchen, down a short hall lined with photographs of the motel construction and the proud owners. Spike hair guy came into the bathroom with me. I wasn't going to get rid of him. I pushed the stall door open.

  “I thought you had to piss.”

  “I do have to piss. I’d rather not do it with a hostile audience.”

  I took the still vibrating phone out of my pocket, praying Spike couldn’t hear it. The screen glowed, no picture, no phone number. I pressed the talk button and held it to my ear.

  “I don't hear any pissing.” My pet enforcer nagged.

  I rolled my eyes, undid my pants, and assumed the position, with the phone still to my ear. If I said anything, Spike would kick the door in and take my phone, so I just listened.

  Make it fast. I sent the message into the phone with my mind.

  “You must escape from the men who are holding you.” A woman's voice said.

  No shit.

  “Hurry up.” The goon banged on the door.

  “When you leave the restroom to return to the dining area, a series of events will occur that will enable you to escape. Use the opportunity to run through the kitchen to the door at the back of the building. Your enemy has a truck running there.”

  “Don’t make me rip the door off the hinges and beat you with it.”

  I zipped my pants, “Don't get your pantyhose in a bunch. I'm done.” I told him.

  “You must first use the ravaging to weaken the man guarding you, then return to your table. Take the path that presents itself. Remember what I told you last night. You must believe in your ability to control yourself. You are strong enough. Go now.”

  I wouldn't have chosen a crowded restaurant to test the limits of my control, but I didn't have much of a choice. Should Gideon and company get us anywhere near the truck and its accoutrement, our mission was done for.

  She spoke as if she heard my thoughts, “Focus your ravage by laying your hand on him. When you've done what you need to, draw it back inside. Command it.”

  I opened the stall door and Spike yanked me out by the front of my jacket. His face contorted with rage at the sight of the phone in my hand.

  “No you don't.” He grasped my arm.

  I pushed the sickness on him in a wave that emanated from deep within me. Veins in his neck ran black, up his face, and he fell back gagging, taking me with him to the floor.

  He held onto me as he flailed in an effort to get back up. I pushed harder. Blood trickled from his nose and his mouth, and he finally loosened his grip. I grabbed him with the hand not holding the phone. I don't know what came over me, but I didn't want to stop myself. I wanted him to die.

  “Hunter, you must hurry. Leave him.” Her voice sounded distant.

  I concentrated on the ravage, the sensation of it passing through my skin into the enforcer. I willed it to reverse course, and it did, hitting me with electricity that shocked every corner of my body. The sensation was intense, but I recovered quickly.

  My victim? Not so much. He lay unconscious on the floor, motionless, save the rise and fall of his chest with each ragged breath.

  “You're the woman from the glass. Who are you?” I paused in the hallway outside the restroom. “What am I to you?”

  “My name is Llewyn.” There was a click, then silence.

  I put the phone in my jacket pocket.

  The diner was about to slide into chaos. I took stock of the people in the room. The breakfast crowd had all but dissipated. An enforcer watching the parking lot through the front door hadn't noticed us go into the restroom or me come out alone. The gossiping old ladies were gone. A bus boy was clearing the huge mess they left.

  Two old men lingered over coffee near the wall with the ceramic roosters and plastic fruit. The cook was in the kitchen, removing what looked like hash browns from a deep fryer.

  The civilians in the rear dining room were gone when I returned. Their absence amplified the tension in the room considerably. With them went any reason our parties had to maintain social decorum.

  Gideon went on high alert when he saw me come back alone. He withdrew a pistol from the holster in his jacket and placed it next to his empty plate.

  “Where is Steven?”

  “He went on break.” I stood next to the table as Gideon, Nigel and Celeste looked up at me expectantly. Was I supposed to sit back down? Go on attack? What?

  Enforcers were stationed throughout the room, one next to Gideon, two near the ceramic rooster dividing wall and another one near the door into the kitchen. Three men sitting at tables rose and drew their pistols. Celeste sensed what was about to go down and wrapped her fingers around the backpack strap.

  “Looks like our moment of civility has reached an abrupt end.” Gideon said.

  “I didn't even get to finish my eggs.”

  Felicia walked in from the kitchen, and at the sight of the armed men, dropped the steaming pot of coffee to the floor where it shattered. The enforcer closest to me threw his arm around my neck.

  Celeste flew from the booth, feet first, kicking the guy holding me in the knee. He crumpled to the floor.

  Gideon made a clumsy grab through the dishes on the table for his pistol, then planted his foot on the bench to launch into the fray.

  Nigel dove from the booth in a clumsy effort to get out of his partner’s way and tripped over his own feet. Celeste kicked him sideways into a chair.

  Hands reached - the thugs fighting to get to be the first to beat me into a bloody mass of flesh. They spun around me, a whirl of impending violence closing in. Where was this magical path that was supposed to present itself?

  Gideon hopped over his fallen partner, leveled the gun at me. The sound of his shot hammered my ear drums. The air in the room became a toxic cloud of gunpowder and the smell of blood. Felicia's scream hit me with a wave of nausea.

  My supervisor's bullet had clipped my shoulder. Interestingly enough, there was no pain, only wetness soaking my shirt and jacket, and then I felt it coming, the ravage, the sickness, like some inherent defense mechanism. I couldn't control it if I wanted to. So much for focus.

  Everyone in the room but Celeste and me collapsed in a fit of blackish plague. Guns clattered across the floor, except for Gideon’s. He kept a death grip, causing it to go off twice in his hand, bullets striking furniture.

  Felicia traded screaming for wheezing and crying and rolling on the floor with her arms around her stomach. T
hey all moaned, an awful, hopeless sound.

  This is why the Center exists, I thought, to keep scenes like this from happening everywhere. My oppressors, cruel as they were, had accurately gauged the level of threat we anomalies posed. Bravo. Foresight wasn't enough to save them from me.

  Celeste grabbed the front of my shirt to pull me close to her, “You're alright. We can go. Release them.”

  I struggled to calm my pounding heart and overloading nerves. I dialed them down by focusing on Celeste. As I'd done in the restroom, I willed the sickness back into me. My legs went weak under the stress of my injury and the exertion, but I remained upright.

  “Ok.”

  She started to exit the way we came.

  “No, wait. We're supposed to leave through the kitchen.” I moved past the people on the floor, including poor Felicia who looked like she would probably be okay. I said a quick apology on the way out. I offered a second apology to the cook and a woman in the kitchen. We found them on the floor among a mound of plates someone was carrying when my ravage hit them.

  Food in the kitchen was starting to burn. Hash browns in the deep fryer smoked. Bacon on the grill was blackening. Through the kitchen, a storeroom, past the freezer and a maintenance closet was the back door. As we burst into the overcast morning, I spotted the running SUV a couple yards away. The enforcer stationed there was just starting to recover from the sickness.

  I popped the hood for Celeste to dispose of the tracker like she'd done in the other truck.

  “You reached that man all the way from inside.” She noted as she jumped into the passenger seat.

  I threw the truck into drive, “I hope it didn't reach too far.” I thought of the old men having coffee and the bus boy.

  “How is your shoulder?”

  Blood had saturated the shirt and my jacket. I needed stitches, probably a lot of them. I was starting to get light-headed.

  “I'm fine.”

  I reached into my pocket for the pill bottle. The medication wouldn't help the bullet wound in any way, but it would help me keep myself in check. I popped the cap off with my thumb, swallowed a pill. A shake of the bottle told me I only had one left.

  The Center provided me with the pills. To tell the truth, I didn't even know what the meds were. They worked. That's all that mattered to me. The real problem was, I couldn't just drop into the pharmacy and pick up a refill.

  Tires slid on wet pavement as we tore out of the parking lot and back onto the country highway. A screen on the dash flashed white, and after a welcome screen, a GPS display came up.

  “We'd better lose the in-dash GPS.”

  “The other truck didn't have that, did it?”

  “Must have been an older model. Hope we don’t encounter any other surprises in here.”

  She found a small pry bar in the glove compartment, jammed it into the console, and with a crunch, it was out. She put down the window to toss it. The radio went with it, which meant no music or weather updates.

  The highway stretched before us once more. We kept checking the mirrors for an hour after we left the diner, wondering when Gideon would catch up with us.

  He was relentless when he set his sights on a target. I'd seen him obsess. He would give me the name of someone he was looking for. I would search message boards and social networks for signs of them. Gideon would call at all hours, demanding to know if I found them. As strange as his job was, he was meant for it.

  He didn't appear, nor did Llewyn. She had saved our lives, no doubt about that. I debated whether I should tell Celeste about her and decided against doing so for that time being. I still didn't fully trust my companion.

  “You should stop for a doctor.” Celeste grew increasingly concerned as the day wore on, “Your face is paler than it was before.”

  “I can't go to the hospital. A gunshot wound is an automatic police report.”

  We couldn't afford the risk.

  When I felt like I might pass out, I pulled into a rest stop. Lucky for us, it was deserted. I abandoned the bloody jacket and tore up the shirt I'd been wearing to make a kind of bandage. I checked the damage and verified that the bullet had only grazed me. The gash it left was still bleeding like hell. I wrapped the shirt around my shoulder, under my arm. Celeste had to help me tie the knot. I removed another of Teag's shirts from the backpack.

  “I guess he was right about never getting these back.”

  I had one left.

  I sat in the driver’s seat to recover. Celeste handed me a bottle of water. My hand trembled so badly, I could barely hold the bottle steady enough to drink from it.

  “I don't suppose you know how to drive.”

  She shook her head.

  No other cars occupied the parking lot. I figured that was as good a place as any for her to learn the basics. I wasn't sure how much longer I would be able to remain conscious. My vision blurred, and I had to keep fighting off a sensation of weightlessness. After a quick trip inside to grab a Missouri state map, I got to work.

  She listened while I explained the various driving controls, gas, brake, windshield wipers, defrosters. I had never appreciated how many controls we have at our disposal until I had to explain them all in a short period of time. She seemed to understand. Then came driving practice.

  She eased out of the parking spot like a pro, shifted into drive. We lurched forward at her first punch of the gas. Getting the angle of the steering wheel right for making turns required a couple of trips around the building. I explained lane changes and the blind spot. She was a quick study, which was good. We couldn’t afford for her to catch on slowly.

  “Do you want me to drive now?”

  “No, no. I'm okay.” I ate one of Teag's protein bars as I pulled out of the rest stop, and for a while, I did actually feel a bit better, still light-headed but not ready to pass out like before. The weather, however, was as dangerous as ever.

  Low-lying farm fields on either side of the highway had become vast lakes. Rushing rivers swelled at their banks, submerging the trunks of trees. The flood was rising.

  “How much farther?” I asked Celeste who was studying the map and chewing her thumbnail.

  “A couple hundred miles or so.”

  I had seen news footage of floods before. Highways and bridges crumbled under the force of raging water. I had nightmarish visions of being trapped between an army of enforcers and a river that wasn't supposed to be there, cutting off our escape. I wasn't exactly a strong swimmer.

  I said, “Next time we stop, we should see if the Center stashed any weapons in here. A gun would come in handy if Gideon catches up with us.”

  “Do you know how to shoot?”

  “Not a real gun, but I have plenty of experience with the virtual kind. I'm a bit of a crack shot.”

  She had no idea what I was talking about.

  “Video games.”

  Blank stare.

  “Never mind.”

  The real Lizzy would've gotten it.

  We drove on for hours, longer than I guessed my condition would have allowed. I had just noticed the gray sky deepening to night when the phone in my pocket rang.

  “I swear I turned this thing off. How are people calling me?”

  The screen showed Teag's number and smiling face.

  “This phone is off.” I reiterated to him.

  “I turned it back on because I need to talk to you.”

  “How is that even possible?”

  “I'm the magic man. Why so sour, puss?”

  “Gideon shot me. I'm tired of driving and tired of bleeding. All for my worthless-ass brother.”

  I glimpsed Celeste's confused expression out of the corner of my eye.

  I asked, “What's up?”

  “You have them riled.”

  “Who?”

  “All of them. This is beyond Gideon. Upper management is involved.”

  I never had the pleasure of dealing with upper management, mostly because the lowly anomaly employees who deal
t with Center leaders ended up disappearing, and I don't mean disappearing as in imprisonment. I mean disappearing at the bottom of Lake Michigan or some other place unwanted bodies were disposed of. Mob-style.

  “If they knew I was talking to you -”

  “Why are you talking to me if the situation is so tense?”

  “I had to tell you. I overheard Gideon on a phone conversation. I have some of the lines bugged. Those pills you take have some nasty withdrawal symptoms.”

  “Like what?”

  “Fever, shakes, vomiting,” He paused, “death, eventually.”

  I couldn't breathe.

  “Are you there?” He asked.

  “Yeah. How long?”

  “Less than a day or so, no more. It's a fail-safe in case you took any unapproved excursions.”

  “I don’t suppose they said what the med was.”

  “The code name for it is Red 78. That's all I know.”

  “Sounds like food coloring.”

  “I'm pretty sure it's not food coloring. I have to go. Gideon's calling.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Catch you later, I hope.”

  “Later.” I ended the call and shut the phone off again, not that doing so was giving me any peace.

  “What's wrong?” Celeste asked.

  “Turns out the pills have withdrawal symptoms. You might have to drive soon. I'm starting to get dizzy again.”

  The stress of Teag's news affected me almost as adversely as the gunshot wound.

  “I need to eat.”

  I pulled over at the next restaurant we found. I must have looked like shit because the overweight, middle-aged mom of a waitress in a blue dress looked at me with a mix of concern and wariness. A glance at my reflection in the napkin holder revealed a grayish skin tone. I looked like death walking.

  “Order me some coffee, will you? I'm going to go clean up in the restroom.”

  Celeste nodded. She wouldn't let me go much longer without seeing a doctor. Unfortunately, she didn't comprehend the complications a police presence would present.

  In the restroom, I started some cold water and stuck my hand under the stream. Then I wiped my face and neck. Did I want to risk someone walking in to check under the t-shirt bandage? I wouldn't like what I saw, and I could do nothing about it anyway, except splash some cold, soapy water on it. Would that even help? I had zero medical expertise. If I were a computer, I could have fixed myself in no time. I laughed at the absurdity. I knew how to care for machines but not myself.

  “Are you there?” I asked the woman in the glass.

  A faint image of her face and tattooed shoulders came into view.

  “They say I'm going to die.” I told her.

  “You won’t die.” She assured me in a smooth voice.

  “You helped me before. Can you help again?”

  A man in a dark suit and tie walked in. I turned back to her. She had vanished.

  The floor tilted under my feet. I caught myself with my arms in the sink.

  “You alright, buddy?” He asked from the urinal.

  “Fine and dandy like sugar candy.” I regained my footing.

  “Do you need me to call anyone for you?”

  “No, thank you. I appreciate the offer. Good day to you, sir.” I concentrated on remaining upright as I returned to the dining area.

  My perception of the restaurant took on an unreal quality. Spherical lamps hanging above the tables seemed brighter than they should have against the dull, dark day, and I swore I heard them buzzing. Food was vibrant with a sheen like plastic and the smell - good but off to the left of reality.

  The tables and counters were an earthy terra cotta color that reminded me of the curtains in my grandmother's house, which reminded me of her collection of decorative plates that hung on the walls in her living room. The sound of dishes clanking together in the kitchen reverberated in my bones.

  Coffee awaited me at our table. I realized how dry my mouth was and went at the glass of water like a man dying of thirst. It poured down my throat like blessed salvation.

  Celeste ate what looked like lasagna. A sandwich was at my place.

  “I ordered a turkey sandwich for you. The picture looked nice.” Her voice echoed.

  “Fast service. Thanks.”

  I pulled the pill bottle out of my pocket. It was empty.

  “What happened to my last pill?”

  “Hmmm?” She asked through a bite of food, “You took it miles ago.”

  I had no recollection of that action whatsoever. The countdown to death had started, and I didn't even remember kickoff. I ran my hand through my hair while I brought my panic under control.

  “I am taking you to the doctor. You cannot die because my mission will be a failure, and if I fail, I die. Your death is my death.” She started to get up.

  “No.” I said in the most resolute tone I could manage. “I told you, the doctor is not an option. We'll find someone along the way to stitch me up.”

  “And the problem with your medicine?”

  “We'll deal with that when the time comes. I just need to rest. Give me a chance to think.”

  I put my head against the window and felt the chill of the rain on the other side. I drifted from the lights and the terra cotta tables and the smell of cooking grease. My arm began to throb, but I left it behind for the rain cleansing the glass.

  “You can't do that here.” A firm, female voice jolted me.

  A hand on my wounded arm sent bolts of pain down to my fingers. I groaned with the hope that my discomfort would discourage any more contact from whoever was trying to wake me.

  “Young man. This is not a hotel.” The voice changed to male.

  I opened my eyes to find the waitress and a man with thinning hair and a short-sleeved button-down shirt looming over me, their disdain evident.

  “You can't sleep here.”

  Celeste waited for a cue from me.

  “Sorry. I guess I let exhaustion get the better of me.”

  “There's a campground down the road. They'll let you park and sleep for the night for ten dollars. I recommend you go there if you're after cheap lodging.”

  My body weighed a ton as I stood. I wasn't sure I could walk until I tilted forward. Other diners stared at us as we passed, me with my semi-coherence, Celeste with her battered wings. We were an interesting pair.

  “I'm going to drive.” She took the keys from my hand.

  I didn't object. I probably would have killed us.

  Minutes later, this time with my forehead against the passenger side window, I drifted toward the land of glass and rain again.

  “Tell me about your brother.”

  “He's a pretentious dickhead.” I muttered without opening my eyes. She was just trying to keep me awake.

  “Please.” Her voice carried a note of desperation. She was afraid I would die if I fell asleep, which wasn't an unwarranted fear.

  “Michael was always the one everyone loved. I know that sounds like cliché sibling conflict, but it's the truth. He's a healer, you know. Whenever a friend skinned their knee on the playground or whatever, he eliminated the problem. Almost put the school nurse out of job.” I laughed to myself. “He used the ability to get friends, then he used it to get money. People followed him like lost puppies.”

  “They wanted to be around him because he was special.”

  “Yeah. I was special, too, but not in a good way.”

  I could have used his healing ability just then. He had helped me before, once when I fell off the merry-go-round and hit my head. He’d done it to show off and to keep me from getting any extra attention.

  “Toward the end of high school, he decided that the best place to take his talents was the church. He didn't need to pray for it to work. I don't think he even believed, but the crowd church attracted was on the hunt for miracles. Lost souls will pay big bucks to experience the hand of God.”

  “People charge money for church?”

  “Y
ou didn't know? The big man upstairs is a lucrative business.”

  I coughed as I felt my throat try to close, and I took a drink of the bottle of water in my hand.

  She shook her head, “I don't think I'll ever understand humans.”

  “You and me both, sister.”

  Fatigue tugged at me again. The darkness was closing in. I wouldn't be able to stop it.

  “Tell me about your brother.” I heard Celeste say again.

  “I just did. I'm going to take a nap. I'll be fine if I get some quiet. Just let me go.”

  And I went. All was peace and darkness in the world of glass and rain. Llewyn hummed a song in my mind.

  I didn't know how long I was out before Celeste shouted my name.