Page 63

Claire

I lost track of time. It could’ve been minutes or hours that I stayed there, crouched uncomfortably behind the totes. I worried about John and Asha, not knowing where they were, and about Kimmy, stuck in the Post. I could only hold myself together and hope they were alright.

But I could hear people outside now. Talking, moving, searching. They gradually grew closer, and I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t leave without being discovered. I could only hope they moved on, and if not…be prepared to fight for my life.

I jumped at a loud bang sounding at the outside door.

I chanced a peek from a small gap between the totes concealing me.

The totes I’d used to barricade the door hadn’t budged.

My heart pounded in my ears as another bang sounded, and then another.

There were male voices right outside, angry and impatient.

I breathed a sigh of relief when they receded after a moment, seeming to give up on the door .

For a while, all was quiet again except for the distant sounds of the search that continued outside. Then I heard the same male voices again, coming from the hallway outside the theatre door.

“…the last room,” one of them said. “We’ve searched everywhere else.”

I swallowed hard and tried not to panic. Think like John.

I peered through the gap in the totes, but I didn’t have a good view of the theatre door. I shut my eyes and held my breath as a colossal bang echoed through the room—then another, and another, so much louder than the first attempt. It sounded like were using something as a battering ram.

They’re going to get in. It was a matter of when, not if. I steeled myself and looked through the gap again, trying to gauge where they’d come into range of my pistol. I raised the gun to the gap, preparing myself.

Boom. The totes stacked by the theatre door went flying, scattering piles of old clothing, props, and ancient lighting equipment everywhere. I listened carefully as two men entered the room.

“Nothing here but more Old World shit,” one of them said dismissively, and for a brief moment, I let myself hope that they’d move on.

“Who barricaded both doors, then?” the other man replied. “I swear, Emerson, you’re the laziest motherfucker alive. Help me move this shit.”

I froze as one man’s legs appeared in the small gap between the totes. Without another thought, I fired off a round. The bullet bit deep into the soft flesh of his thigh, and he collapsed with a scream. Blood sprayed from the wound like a firehose. I’d hit an artery.

“What the fuck!” the other man cried, and I instinctively flattened myself to the ground, covering my head. Shots rang out, blowing holes in the totes above me, and I was showered with plastic debris.

Ears ringing, I held my breath. Heavy footfalls told me that the second man took off running, leaving the first groaning on the floor. Even through the small gap, I could see that the floor was becoming rapidly soaked with blood.

I had to move—he could be back any second—but getting out from behind this tower of totes wouldn’t be easy or graceful. I threw myself against them, once and then again, and they toppled over with an enormous crash .

The floor was covered with plastic totes, random debris, and hot, sticky blood, making it hard to navigate. I stumbled my way toward the outside door, scrambling. I’d cleared the totes in front of it and closed my fist around the handle when I heard that cold, mocking voice behind me.

“Claire Ainsley. Where could you be going?”

My heart in my throat, I spun around on my heel, raised my pistol, and spotted Jim J standing in the doorway, flanked by the masked man who must’ve fled and called him here. I fired—once, twice—at Jim J’s centre mass, the way John had taught me.

Jim J’s body jerked violently, and blood instantly began to soak through the front of his white shirt. I turned back toward the exit, prepared to make a run for it, and nearly jumped out of my skin as a blade slammed into the door, inches from my head.

“I wouldn’t run, if I were you. My family is waiting outside,” Jim J said, his voice only slightly roughened. “Even if you could escape, my dear…do you think I won’t still hunt you? Still crave you? I’ll never stop.”

Horror was choking me as I stared at the blade embedded in the door. It was a meat cleaver…and it already had blood on it.

I turned, trembling all over, to face the man I’d been running from for months.

His face was twisted into a rapturous grin that didn’t touch his wild eyes.

His gaze was hard, yet he also appraised me with something like desire.

The masked man beside him merely stood silently, the gold eye on his mask a horrible reminder of all I’d suffered at the hands of these people.

Hot bile threatened to spill from the back of my throat.

As he’d been at the Gathering, he was dressed in a three-piece suit. Blood was still soaking through his shirt, but he paid it no mind, as if being shot twice at close range was no more significant an event than his morning bagel.

Jim J took a step forward, and I instinctively flattened my back against the outside door, aiming my gun at him.

“By all means, shoot me again,” he said with a shrug. “You’ll find the results to be disappointing, however. I am the Chosen—an immortal.”

I didn’t care that flight was futile. I grabbed the door handle, pushed the door open, and ran outside…

right into the arms of an other masked man.

Huge and imposing, he grabbed my shoulders and forced me back inside with a hard push.

I tripped over the totes scattered across the floor and fell on top of a pile of old, discarded clothing.

It was a soft landing, but the wind was knocked out of my lungs. I lay there, defeated.

“Smith, please escort the Vessel down to the stage,” Jim J said to the larger masked man behind me. “We have preparations to make.”

Smith lumbered over to me, narrowly avoiding the debris. I put up a token resistance as he manhandled me to my feet; I knew it was over. Whatever was going to happen, I couldn’t stop it now. My only hope was to look for an opening, to wait for them to make a mistake.

I was led to the doorway where Jim J waited. He raised his left hand to my left cheek, and I flinched. He caressed my skin the way a lover would, and it sent chills down my spine.

“You are lovely,” he said. “I’ll drink deep from my Vessel tonight.”

“You’re sick,” I whispered.

Jim J flashed me his awful, demented smile, then leaned in close enough that I could feel his hot breath on my face.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “This won’t hurt.”

Before I could react, he’d withdrawn a syringe from his jacket pocket, and in one fluid motion, he stabbed the long, thin needle into my neck and pressed down on the plunger.

I only remembered the twisted pleasure in his wild eyes before the world went dark.

“Claire.”

Someone was tapping my cheek. I was in my bed at Summerhurst, but I was too tired to open my eyes. I groaned and tried to roll over, but I couldn't.

“Claire,” the voice insisted. “Come on.”

“John?” I murmured sleepily. “I’m so tired.”

“I know. But you have to wake up before they get back.”

I cracked open one eye, and to my disappointment, my bed was nowhere in sight. Instead, I was lying on top of a steel table, my hands and feet tightly bound with rope. Overhead, there were dusty red curtains, broken light bulbs, a stage bridge…and a halo of golden hair that I instantly recognized.

“Holly,” I croaked, my throat parched. “Where am I?”

Her hair had grown out since I’d last seen her. The ends touched her jaw now, and her blue eyes were the same as ever…but she looked unwell. Her cheeks were hollow and gaunt, and her gaze was haunted.

“Still in the theatre,” she replied. “On the stage. Jim J stepped out to try to reach Mom over the radio before the ritual. She’s still back at our camp.”

I was trying to come back to reality, but whatever drug they’d given me pulled back hard on the edges of my consciousness. I blinked rapidly, trying to clarify my blurred vision.

As it cleared, I realized we were on the old theatre stage, and the audience seats were empty.

Candles surrounded us. The stage backdrop depicted a faded mural of under the sea, its paint chipping and peeling.

Wood cutouts of coral, seashells, and fish cluttered the back half of the stage, along with half a dozen tridents and pirate swords.

A rusty, authentic-looking anchor hung on the backdrop, the tips of its hook glinting in the light.

Holly took out a knife. I flinched, but she started sawing at my bonds.

Is she trying to free me?

“We don’t have much time,” she said, determined. “We’ll hide you somewhere until I can get you out.”

“What?” I mumbled. My consciousness was a wet match that simply wouldn’t ignite. “I can’t…can’t move, Holly. I won’t make it.”

If she responded, I didn’t hear it, pulled under by a wave of fatigue.

“Claire!” she said my name with a frantic edge now, tapping my cheek harder. “Come on. Wake up.”

In my current state, I couldn’t make myself react appropriately. It was only the vague sense that I was in danger that kept my head above the waves long enough for me to whisper, “Find John.”

“Where is he?” Holly demanded. “Please, Claire.”

“Outside,” was all I could manage. “He’ll…come for me. But why…help me?”

There was a brief pause, and even through my drug-induced stupor, I was surprised to hear a sliver of emotion in my sister’s voice .

“I don’t want you to die.”

“Oh,” I sighed, blinking rapidly, trying to rouse myself. “That’s…good?”

Holly choked back a laugh of disbelief but continued sawing at the ropes around my ankles. She managed to free them, then started on my wrists.

“What changed?” I murmured, working to stay lucid. Thankfully, it seemed like the sedative effects might be beginning to wane. “I thought you hated me.”

“I didn’t,” she replied softly, and her eyes betrayed regret. “I was stupid and brainwashed. I couldn’t…handle the truth. I thought that joining them would give me a sense of purpose…”

“But what?”

Her blue eyes darkened. “But then he started raping me.”

“What?” I whispered. “Oh, Holly…”

She paused briefly at her work, his fingers trembling, but quickly started again.

“Does Mom know?” I asked, but I knew the answer.

“Of course,” Holly replied curtly. “We all knew that Jim J took women from our ‘family’ as consorts. It’s a great honour to be chosen by him. I guess I was na?ve and thought they all wanted it.”

“But you’re his—” I cut off the thought.

She sneered. “You think he gives a fuck? If anything, I’m more attractive to him because of my connection to our mother. He sleeps around, but his heart is hers. He’s utterly obsessed with her.”

My queasiness reemerged, and I swallowed hard. “Is that the real reason he wants to kill me? Because I’m a reminder that Mom had a child with someone else?”

She blew out a breath. “Maybe. But from what I’ve seen, he’s a true believer. He really believes you’re the ‘Vessel’ for Odessa on Earth, that he has to destroy to be granted his ultimate powers.”

I thought again about the shots I’d fired, right into Jim J’s chest.

“But he does have powers,” I said slowly. “Doesn’t he? His immortality seems…real.”

“Yeah,” Holly sighed. “I don’t know how, but it is. I’ve seen it. He won’t tell anyone how he gained his power. He just keeps promising to give it to us, too, if we help him in his ultimate goal.”

She freed my wrists, and I flexed them, my head throbbing .

“Which is?”

“I—”

A door opened and shut somewhere nearby, and Holly immediately sheathed her knife, tucked the shredded rope under me, and backed away from the table.

A moment later, Jim J’s awful smile greeted me as he walked out from behind one of the old theatre curtains.

He was wheeling a small cart of terrifying-looking tools alongside him, including a cleaver and a bone saw.

Jim J’s expression faltered on seeing Holly. My heart pounded hideously in my chest, and I tried to lie perfectly still, hiding my free hands beneath me.

“How odd to see you here,” he said in a low, dangerous tone. “Since I specifically asked for you to wait outside with the others until called.”

Holly backed up a step, her complexion wan, a sheen of sweat forming on her brow. Her fear of this man and the things he had done radiated off her; I’d never seen her so clearly terrified. My palms felt clammy as I tried to form a plan.

“I was only checking on the Vessel,” Holly answered, her voice shockingly calm. “Doxtator said that she was showing signs of waking. He was right, so I wanted to be sure she couldn’t escape.”

Jim J scanned her face for a moment, and I held my breath.

“Fine,” he replied tersely. “Just get out.”

Holly nodded and left without looking back at me. I didn’t know if I could trust her to help me, even if she really had had a change of heart. It could be a trap.

Jim J turned to me, and his sadistic smile returned. “You’ll soon be ready for my family to join us. Just one more step; we’ll have to get you out of those clothes.”

He turned to pick up a knife from the cart he’d brought in, and a surge of panic flooded my system.

Before he could turn around, I sprang up off the table, my knees wobbling dangerously.

I tackled him, fastening my legs around his torso as I jumped on his back.

I had no weapons, no plan, and absolutely no chance, but I didn’t care.

The only thought in my head was that I wasn’t going to lie down and surrender.

I pummeled his head with my fists, each blow harder than the last. This man had ruined my family and stolen my home and desecrated my father’s memory. If I was about to die, I’d make him suffer for it.

Jim J let out a shout of surprise and grappled with me.

I clung to him, clawing at his eyes, but he caught my wrist in a vicelike grip.

With a growl, he flipped me over his head and tossed me like a ragdoll.

I skidded along the hard stage floor for several feet, pain shooting through my body.

Jim J turned to me, his face bloodied by my assault, his jaw hardened with sudden rage.