“Stay put,” I tell Hannah, then open the door and step out of the car.
A few clouds float above. They are gray, full of the threat of rain. The sun hides behind one of them, and I wish it wasn’t so. A cemetery has enough gloom as it is. A heavy silence seeps from the tombstones and saturates the air. My soul goes quiet and still with respect for the dead. My heart finds a certain peace at the thought of at least some of us being in a better place.
The peace doesn’t last that long. Only until a gust of wind whirls around the SUV and ends up right behind me.
I stiffen. “Hello, James.”
“Guerrero,” he says, pressing one arm around my neck and a gun to my temple. “Hands up.”
Chapter 4 (#u7b009af6-bd19-5a8d-847b-8a5a429c2be8)
“Who’s that?” James demands, gesturing toward Hannah.
I’m sandwiched between the open door and the fastest human being on the planet, as far as I know, anyway. Hannah is still huddled on the passenger-side floorboard. She looks up at us, arms wrapped around her knees, visibly shaking.
I take a deep breath to calm myself. A gun to my temple is a new threat. I wonder if James is serious and took the safety off and everything.
Of course he’s serious, Marci. Don’t be stupid! A heart attack is nothing.
“Um, just a girl. Her name is Hannah.” I remember hearing somewhere that if an assailant knows your name, he’s less likely to kill you. Since he already knows mine, I give him the girl’s. “I was on my way here when I saw her. I wouldn’t have brought her, but two scouts spotted her, too. I couldn’t let them take her.”
“It’s hard enough to trust you already. This is pushing it.”
“I know. I know. But what would you have done?”
James says nothing to that.
“It’s … it’s true,” Hannah says from within the SUV, her voice so weak and shaky it’s barely audible. “She saved my life.”
“Don’t make any sudden moves.” James removes his arm from around my neck and proceeds to relieve me of my gun. When that is done, he steps back and moves his own weapon from my temple to the back of my neck. “Now, step away from the car.”
I do as he says. He sidesteps with me, staying at my back. When we are about ten feet from the SUV, he says, “Hannah, I’m going to need you to get out of the car. Hands up in the air.”
There are no signs of movement within the SUV. I think of the revolver she was carrying and hope she doesn’t try anything stupid. James almost strangled me once. I doubt that, under the circumstances, it would be hard to get him in a trigger-happy mood.
“Did you hear me?” James’s voice goes up a notch. The kind of deep tone a father might use on his daughter.
“I did. I’m coming out. I’m coming. Please don’t shoot,” Hannah says shrilly.
She wriggles herself out of the tight space and pushes onto the passenger seat, her hands up in the air.
“Now, slowly, open the door and come around the car, hands where I can see them,” James instructs.
Hannah follows the instructions closely, keeping her hands above her ears as she rounds the front of the SUV. She stops about ten paces away from us and gives James a small nod as if saying: “See, I’m just a girl.”
“All right, now take off your jacket and throw it aside,” James says.
Hannah frowns at the request but does as she’s told. It is a puffy jacket. Much could be concealed under it. She’s left in a tight fitting t-shirt that barely hides her thin frame.
“Now both of you, move away from the car.” James gives me a slight push.
Hannah and I walk side by side down the middle of the road, James following but staying a fair distance away.
“All right, that’s good. Turn around.”
We stop and face him. James reaches into his back pocket and tosses me a pair of handcuffs. I catch them in midair. I get my first good glimpse of him since the attack at Elliot’s headquarters. James looks harried, the crow’s feet around his eyes more pronounced than before. His normally well-shaved head is sprouting a few hairs from the sides, and his shoulders appear narrower. He’s never been a big man, just average height and build, but he always looked fit. I guess this war is getting the best of him. I’m sure getting shot didn’t help either.
“Cuff her,” James says, his gray eyes as intense as ever.
“Is that necessary?” I ask, though I know it’s a stupid question. We can’t trust anyone.
“I’m taking no chances.”
I face Hannah. “I’m sorry. He has a lot to safeguard, but I promise he won’t hurt you if you don’t cause any trouble.”
She nods shakily and lowers her arms. I clamp one cuff to her right wrist, then walk behind her and secure the other at her lower back. As soon as I’m done, I put my hands up again.
“Sit on the sidewalk and stay put, Hannah,” James says in a voice that is sounding kinder by the minute. “Like Marci said, just do as I say and everything will be fine.”
“I will, Mister …” Hannah sits with some difficulty. She lowers her head and sniffles a few times, but quickly composes herself.
“You can call me James.”
“Thank you, Mister James.”
He smirks and shakes his head. After a pensive moment, he jerks his head and the gun to one side, signaling me to move away from Hannah. As we walk toward the opposite sidewalk, I notice James’s ultra-firm grip on the gun. It seems he’s taking no chances with my telekinetic powers either. Ha! Like I’ve learned to control them. I can only wish.
James’s gray eyes drill into mine. “So … still Marci?”
I cock my head to one side and nod.
He sighs. “It’s a damn thing. I want to trust you, but …”
“Don’t feel bad. I’ve given you plenty of reasons not to.”
An image of my bloody hands after I failed to stop Azrael from killing Oso flashes in front of my eyes. My heart tightens with the regret that assaults me every time I think of that kind man, and of the way that petty creature took his life. A wave of disgust runs through me as I imagine the parasitic agent lodged, seething, lurking, inside my brain.
“Report,” James says.
I take a deep breath, trying to remember everything that’s happened since the last time I met with Aydan—too long ago for comfort. After IgNiTe’s attack at Whitehouse headquarters and the eradication of his Spawners, things have been busy for the Seattle resistance. Without Spawners the Whitehouse faction can’t grow its base—an advantage IgNiTe must fight to maintain.
“Well, everyone’s still in turmoil,” I say. “Lyra says Elliot has been busy doing damage control. He has been meeting with his captains, making plans few are privy to. He’s being extremely paranoid. He had his tech people check the network, but I made sure they didn’t find any of my hacks. So I’ve been able to watch the security system closely and have seen very little going on in the building. Whatever meetings he’s holding, they must be happening elsewhere. I suspect he has gone low tech. He’s taking no chances. The bastard. I wish you would just let me put a bullet between his eyes.”
“Stick to your orders, Marci. Killing Elliot would make his faction unpredictable. I know you’ve sworn revenge but, take it from me, you should strive to live for more, find a worthy reason. Revenge will blind you to the things that truly matter.”
“I know. I know.” Maybe James is right, but, at the moment, nothing sounds better than making Elliot pay.
James grunts and casts a quick glance in Hannah’s direction, frowning.
