Bound (The Divine, Book Four) (13 page)

I didn't stand until everyone else had disembarked. Only then did I sling the pack over my shoulder and make my way out, the hidden dagger in my jacket ready to be used. Nobody stared, nobody approached. I was still in the clear.

A quick walk through the station, and I would grab a taxi to Dulles International. I had never been in D.C. before, and I was amazed by the construction of the station; a magnificence in marble and light that stood in stark contrast to the old dinginess that Penn Station brought to mind. The beauty of it distracted me, and that distraction almost caused me to lose the Box.

A gloved hand dug into my shoulder, stopping my brisk pace. I tried to turn around, to face my assailant, but a second hand wrapped up under my other arm and pinned me, shoving me towards the wall and an access door nearby. I could tell by the size of the hand and the feel of the person behind me that they were taller than me, and well-muscled. At first, I wriggled in their grasp, trying to kick at the feet or twist from the grip without drawing too much attention. For every movement I made, my attacker countered it with equal and opposite force, leaving me stuck in their grasp and moving to a more private location. I needed to get out of this now, because I didn't know what was waiting on the other side of the door. Had they been expecting me?
 

There was only one thing left to do, and so I let go of my control of Elyse and pushed myself towards my captor. I was too close to understand who they were, and I never got to find out. No sooner had I let go of Elyse than a blazing heat greeted my ghostly form, propelling me away. I only barely managed to latch back onto her before I was sent off into the distance.

"Damn. Will you cool it, Rebecca?"
 

I knew that voice, but how did he know it was me? I stopped struggling.
 

"I'll walk myself, Obi-wan."

His hands left my shoulders. As soon as they did, I spun around and struck out at him with the knife.

He was expecting the move, and he caught my wrist and pinched the nerve, making me drop the weapon. "Hold on a sec, will you? I know what happened, but I'm not here for Sarah."

I looked up at him. His face was damp with perspiration and his breath smelled like alcohol. A rough Eye was painted on his forehead in... mascara?

"Then what are you doing here?"

He waved towards the access door. "Can we just get out of sight? It isn't safe out here."

I nodded. It was obvious he had come running from some drunken stupor somewhere, and I wanted to know why. I walked to the door and opened it. It was nothing but a small janitorial supply room. He pushed me in and closed the door behind us, stopping to pick up the dagger.

"I can't believe he was telling me the truth," he said, as soon as the door had shut. He used his hand to wipe some of the sweat away.

"Who?"

He grinned. "So, I'm at home, sitting on my couch, downing another shot of tequila when my phone rings. I pick it up, and there's this guy on the phone. He tells me I need to track down an Elyse Everness, and to check transportation databases."

He was talking fast, and the words were coming out a little stilted. I put up my hand. "Wait, slow down. I was at Sarah's. I heard her say you don't answer your phone."

"I do when the battery is dead and it still rings. Anyway, he texts me a photo of this thing on my forehead, tells me to draw it with whatever I have, find out where Elyse is going, and get there. He tells me she's really you, and you've either got the Box, or you will soon enough. I know Sarah, and she's a sweet kid. I love her like a niece, but destroying the Box? Hell, no. I wasn't helping her with that, I don't care what Landon wanted. I lost enough already." He put his hand on the wall to steady himself.
 

"Who?" I asked again.

"I'm getting to that. He tells me you have the Box, and you're going to get Landon out. That there's a way." His eyes started tearing. "Too much dying, too much destruction. I can feel the balance you know. I know its in the crapper, and it's going to get worse without Landon. The angels have the Deliverer, but they can't be everywhere at once, and the demons will figure out they're being played sooner or later. Either that or Gervais will get them organized. He can't kill Gervais with it you know, because he's not a demon anymore. He's something else."

His voice sped up as he spoke, until I could barely make out what he was saying.

"Obi, get to the point. Who told you to find me?"

"Yeah, right. He's an odd one. British accent, kind of soft, like a trannie or something. Laughs at himself a lot. Said his name was... Matt?"

I remembered the demon Templar. "Max?"

He pointed at me and grinned. "Yeah, that's it. Told me he was waiting for us in Peru, but you weren't going to make it without help. So I tracked you down."

That's who was feeding Elyse her information? Why hadn't she wanted to tell me? I knew Landon trusted the demon, and that made me feel better about this whole thing. Elyse might have her own selfish goals, but it seemed we really did want the same thing. "I didn't use the name Elyse Everness to book the ticket."

"Of course you didn't, that would be stupid. You used an anagram of Reyka Solen, and you paid with a credit card you got from one Randolph Hurst, who happens to be a vampire. I put two and two together."

"You did all that drunk?" I was impressed.

 
He shrugged. "It wasn't that hard. I've already got the algorithms set up to track the known Divine in town. The bigger problem is that you were spotted the minute you got off the train. I was waiting right outside the gate, you just didn't notice me. They went to get some backup, but they'll be poking around here soon enough. We need to get on a plane to Peru."

"So you're going to help me?"

He waved the dagger in front of him. "I want to stick this thing into your heart for all the crap you've done, but first things first. Yeah, I'm going to help you."

"Fair enough. I deserve whatever you want to dish out. You have a car?"

"I can do better than a car. I pulled some strings." He flipped the knife in his hand and held it out to me. "We just need to get outside in one piece. Let's move." He pushed open the door to the closet and peeked out. "You go first. I'll hang back so if anyone tries to grab you, I can hit them from behind."

I stepped in front of him, slipping out the door during a break in traffic and moving into the crowd. I was nearing the Center Cafe when I heard the first scream.

I took the hint, diving to the side as a round of gunfire echoed through the Station. Chips of marble scattered from the spot where I had been standing, and I came up from my roll facing the shooter. It was just in time to hear the extra loud boom of Obi's Desert Eagle, and watch him drop.

I knew right away he wasn't alone. The shooting had caused most of the mortals to run, to scatter in every direction that wasn't near the now fallen Nicht Creidim. The decision hadn't been unanimous. A half dozen or so stayed back, and even as the other humans shouted, cried, screamed, and fought their way past, they drew their own guns.

Obi was running towards me, and I raised my hand, holding up all of my fingers and then pointing behind him. He rolled his eyes, and then dropped to his knees, sliding along the floor to where the shooter's body lay. He flopped over and levered it, using it as a shield against a sudden barrage. Some of the bullets skipped off the floor around him, creating more divots in the marble. Others found the dead man's flesh. Obi's arm reached out, firing off two quick rounds and dropping two of our attackers.
 

"Get outside," he shouted back at me, leaving me to make a run for it while he hid beneath a corpse. I wanted to help him, but I only had the knives, and our enemies were too far away. "Go!"

I didn't have a choice. I stayed low while I ran for the doors, where the rest of the people were fighting to get out. More gunshots rang out behind me, and I heard another shout and thud in the background. I joined the crowd, pushing through them and getting outside, finding myself face to face with a policeman.

There was no hesitation when I let go of Elyse and floated into this one, wrapping around his soul and taking control. I felt the hurt of his memories: the demanding parents, the disappointed ex-wife, the rebellious son. He was a good cop though, a straight-shooter with the best intentions.
 

"Get out of the way!" I started shoving the frightened mortals aside. "Keep it safe," I said to Elyse, who nodded and kept going towards the street.

I hurried back inside as the whole scene fell quiet. Obi had emptied his clip, and apparently so had the Nicht Creidim. There was a frantic rush by both parties to reload, and Obi had to get out from under cover to do it. I took the policeman's gun from its holster and started firing, the bullets missing the target in my still clumsy hands, but doing the job of keeping them distracted. Obi saw me and jumped to his feet, running towards me and using my cover fire to escape and reload. I kept shooting while I rushed the three remaining attackers, my bullets still off the mark but managing to hit one in the shoulder. The other two finished replacing their clips, and I found myself in a hailstorm of metal.

Bullets ate into me, piercing my shoulder, my leg, my chest. My shell was wearing a vest, and so nothing vital got destroyed. I continued the charge, pulling the baton from my belt as I neared them, ignoring the pain of the wounds I was taking. I was out of bullets, but I could still fight.

They didn't bother with knives at this range. I was right in their face, and their guns rose, the muzzle flashes blinding me while the bullets found a better target in my face. I could feel the life draining from my host, but he had done his job. I let him go, giving him a few final breaths before he fell over and died, finding my way to the Nicht Creidim closest to me - a woman in business attire. I was angry enough that I barely noticed the pain of her memories while I wrested control of her body.

The next part was simple. I was too close to miss. I turned to the two men standing next to me and shot them both in the head. Once they were face down, I dropped the gun and started walking towards the exit.

Obi stood there, his mouth gaping. "Rebecca?"

I winked at him.

"Holy crap."
 

"Elyse is waiting outside. Go get her for me?"

"Yeah, sure."
 

He turned to leave, but I took hold of his arm.

"You need to shoot me first."

He looked at me, then down at his gun. "I can't..."

"You have to."

He shook his head. "No way. I know you're cold blooded, but I'm not going to shoot someone in cold blood."

I slid my hand forward and pulled the gun from his grip. There was no ceremony to my suicide, and it left him visibly shaken. He stood there for a few seconds, looking at my ghost form.
 

"Max said you'd changed. I was hoping maybe he meant in a good way."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Landon

It was one of the last places I wanted to be. It was one of those things that a person would never want to have to relive, or remember, and one of the worst experiences of my short mortal life. Not a total loss type of experience, but an embarrassing one.

"Awww, you look so cute," Charis said.
 

We were standing in the gymnasium of Philip Randolph High School. We were surrounded by teenagers decked out in their youthful finest. Other than the athletes, the boys looked awkward in their rented suits that didn't fit quite right, and the girls looked overdone in bright, frilly gowns that were too tight, or too short, or too revealing. Some random pop song was playing over the strategically placed speakers, and directly in front of us, swaying like a robot with his hands on the hips of Carly Lane, was one of P.R. High's biggest geeks.

Me.

"Daddy, you suck at dancing." Clara had been giggling at me since we had arrived in the memory, stepping out of the door of the eighteenth century mansion and into the door of the gym.
 

"What did I do to deserve this?" I watched my younger self shift from side to side, the anxiety obvious from a mile away, and flexed my leg.
 

The wound had healed when we had time-warped, thanks to what Clara called the 'carryover effect'. We were using our connected power to change the Box, to recreate its world in the image of these memories, and make it as real as could be expected here. The creation countered Ross' destruction, and so it had carried over to the damage done to my knee. It was still a little stiff, but it was good to know I could still recover from a hit if needed, even if Clara said it wasn't safe to do a full regeneration.

"I think you're adorable." Charis had watched little me with a smile on her face from the minute we'd arrived. "Just think, in two years you'd be under arrest."

"I wasn't always this nervous. Just with girls." I turned to her. "You're like a whole different world."

"A bad one?"

"I wouldn't say that. Now."

We'd been here for at least an hour; a long time considering how fast Ross had discovered us the first time. I wasn't convinced his delay wasn't intentional. Maybe he was hoping to catch us off-guard? We had passed the time standing there, trying to look like a pair of chaperones, though Clara had drawn a lot of confused glances.
 

I scanned the room, taking in all of the familiar faces. The captain of the football team, the cheerleaders, the glee club and the nerds. Everything had seemed so contained when I had been in school. Life had seemed so simple... and now? So much was happening behind the scenes. So much that most people would never have a clue about, and I was sure it was better that way.

Harold Nash wasn't looking where he was going, and his shoulder bumped my arm as he stumbled by, trying not to let anyone see the tears in his eyes because his girlfriend had chosen a very poor and public moment to dump him. He muttered an 'excuse me' below his breath without slowing, and I looked back to where Tanisha Peck was watching him go with a sad satisfaction. It was hard to believe that the re-creation of my memories could be so lifelike. In fact, now that we had a few minutes away from Ross, it was amazing to me that we had made all of this inside a cube that would fit in the palm of my hand.