Darkness Returns (27 page)

Jessie planted her hands over her ears.

La, la, la. Now I’m three years-old. I can’t here you. La, la, la.

The old soul touched her back, his hand warm and firm through her Nirvana t-shirt. “She did not leave you. She saved you. Just as Ryan saved you. Just as your father puts his life on the line every day to save you.”

She noticed he didn’t say anything about Kress, or the others at the Agency, and knew it was deliberate. Ryan, Mom, and Dad—in his freaky own way—protected her because they loved her. Christ on a Ritz, she had pushed Craig away while all he wanted was to make sure she was okay. That look in his eyes might have been fear, but fear had shades and one of them was worry.

Well fancy that. My dad is worried about me.

Which means right now he’s got like an army of tanks rolling to come find her.

She had to get out of here. But she couldn’t leave yet. After coming all this way, she would not leave without something to show for it.

“I need my mojo back,” she whispered.

The old man came quick with an answer. “Your power never left. You only became dependant on Gabriel’s guidance.”

“Then how,” she said and turned back to the old man, “do I get over my dependence?”

His smile was so tiny, his eyes so bright, Jessie knew right off she wouldn’t like his answer.

“The Chosen,” he said, “must choose.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

The
thwumping
of helicopters yanked Jessie out from inside as if waking from a dream.

More like a nightmare, but who’s counting?

Ryan had left the window. He sat on the floor in front of the television watching a late night talk show host do his opening monologue.

God, how long had she perched on this ledge?

Her bent legs ached a little. When she took her hands off the glass, she left greasy palm prints behind. The air smelled like rain, but none had started falling yet.

The sound of the helicopters grew louder.

Jessie knew who they belonged to. Dad had come for her.

But she’d be damned if she left here without accomplishing something.

That something hinged on her earlier turn of phrase.

She stared at the back of Ryan’s head.

I want to make you all better.

I
will
make you all better.

Hell, I
choose
to make you all better.

She slammed her hands against the glass again.

A number of the patients in the common room heard the sound and turned toward the window. She could feel all their eyes on her, could feel all their hurt. Their delusions, illusions, depressions, mania, paranoia, and things Jessie didn’t have names for, feelings that didn’t make sense in a person, but that churned in some of them, tearing up their minds like a tossed handful of jacks with sharpened ends.

At least fifteen people stared toward the window.

Jessie concentrated on pulling the night in around her, thickening the shadow she had made of herself, but they saw her. Somehow they all saw her. And then Ryan stood, noticing the collective gaze at the window and looked himself, and
he
saw her, too. She knew it. More so, he recognized her somehow. His eyes widened. His mouth dropped open. He mouthed a word Jessie swore was her name.

“I want to make you all better, Ry,” she said.

The light exploded out of Jessie as if her whole body had become a flashbulb. Pure white and so strong it blinded her a second. She felt a force launch out of her, as if something she’d been keeping inside, some caged animal, finally found the cage door open and galloped free.

The light filled the common room for less than a second.

Then the whole experience had passed, so quickly Jessie had her doubts it had happened at all. Except for one thing. The fifteen pairs of eyes that had stared toward the window possessed a clarity they’d probably not know for years, maybe…ever.

They stared at the window a few seconds longer, then turned toward one another, exchanging wide-eyed glances, brows furled, some with hands to their hearts, others with tears in their eyes. And several, most even, with growing smiles on their faces.

Including Ryan, who had a gaped-mouth smile that made him look like someone had told him he’d won the lottery. His were also the only set of eyes still gazing at the window.

A few patients shouted out. Not panicked, but definitely surprised.

The kind-looking orderly and another woman rushed into the room and stopped short at what they saw. What had once looked like a shambling collection of zombies now looked like an impromptu social gathering. Patients spoke to one another. A couple ran over to the orderlies and hugged them tightly, then spoke quickly and on top of each other, trying to explain what had happened.

Both orderlies glanced at the window, but they didn’t see anything.

A few seconds later, the doctor stormed in, frowning. “What’s all this racket?” He actually used that phrase. But when his eyes and ears showed him what his mind could not believe, even he smiled, the file folder in his hand slipping free and dropping to the floor, pages fluttering out like scattered autumn leaves.

Through the surrounding commotion, Ryan crossed to the window. He stared out, but now he stared through her, her shadow trick working. She wanted so badly to reveal herself, to look in his eyes and have him look back into hers, but what he saw would probably drive him back into the madness he had only just escaped.

Tears filled her eyes as a pair of helicopters landed on the hospital’s front lawn as if they belonged there. A pair of the hospital’s security guards rushed out the front door and skid to a stop on their heels at the sight of the two double-rotor choppers. The wind from the rotors knocked the cap off one of the guards.

From the choppers, bright spotlights scanned the surface of the building. Another kind of light, deep red, that cast only the faintest glow, also traced the façade. That was the light that focused on her on the window ledge.

At that point, the other lights went out.

Through a PA speaker loud enough to hear over the thundering rotors of the helicopters, Jessie heard her dad.

“
Come on, Jess. Time to go home.
“

Home. He didn’t believe that place was a home any more than she did.

Oh, well. She had accomplished what she had come for and then some. It took some effort, but Jessie turned away from Ryan to look over her shoulder.

“I helped him,” she said, voice cracking. “I helped them all.” She laughed through her tears. “I made them
all
better.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

“Unacceptable!”

Lockman sat behind what he still referred to as Kress’s desk because he could not adjust to the idea that it belong to him now. He hadn’t gone through any of the drawers or reorganized anything on the surface, either—not that he’d had time for such mundane tasks.

Jessie now wore a pair of jeans and a t-shirt cut in the back to accommodate her wings. She stood before the desk like a student sent to the principal’s office, so she should have felt right at home.

She said nothing. But the half-smile on her face burned Lockman.

He leaned back in Kress’s chair and let loose a long, disapproving sigh with his gaze lasering into her eyes. That didn’t faze her either. She was too hyped up on what she thought she’d accomplished at the hospital.

“There will be questions,” he said. “Lots of them.”

She shrugged. “We’re government now. Can’t we just do a cover-up?”

Lockman slapped the desk. “This isn’t funny, Jess.”

“No. It’s fucking amazing, and you’re too locked up in protect-my-daughter mode to see the forest for the trees.”

One thing at least, she was talking to him again, civilly. Vamp prophesied to save the world, but still a moody teenager. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“Then don’t. Isn’t it amazing? I got some of my power back. I cured a whole bunch of mentally ill people. I’m like…awesome.”

“You made a scene, too. I’m not talking about our noisy extraction. I’m talking about those people. And the doctors that have been treating them for years. What are they going to think?”

“They’re going to think miracles happen. And they’re going to be right.”

Lockman swiveled away and stared at the American flag on the wall. The Stars and Stripes. The symbol of all he swore to protect when he first signed on with the original Agency. He believed this country needed protecting against people who would use the dark powers out there to achieve their own ends. But like any idealistic bureaucracy, they slowly began to use the same power in their fight, claiming their aims were for the greater good.

That kind of thinking created people like Otto and Gabriel Dolan. Or like Teresa now. Or like…

He swiveled back. “That kind of talk makes you sound like one of them.”

Her brow wrinkled. The smile finally dropped from her face. She folded her arms. “Like one of who?”

“We used to call them paranormal terrorists. We used language that made sense to use. Basically, fanatics who thought that using mojo could save the world.”

Jessie shot an arm out, pointing as if the hospital they’d come from was in the next room. “You didn’t see those people. If magic can save people like that, it
can
save the world. Besides, isn’t that what this whole operation is about?”

“According to Kress, if you believe his cover story. But his truth is as slippery as yours. And it’s the reason he’s not in charge anymore.”

While he had brought her into Kress’s office, stood her there while he sat behind Kress’s desk, took on the role of disciplinarian, she obviously hadn’t realized what it meant.

“What happened?”

“He’s ill. Whatever kind of natural mojo his people have, it’s driving him crazy. He finally stepped down, which—”

“Puts you in charge.”

“The real reason he wants the Return so badly—”

“I already know all that. He told me. It’s why I finally agreed to go inside the first time. And I don’t care. If The Return is real, it’s still the best thing that could happen to this world.”

Lockman couldn’t disagree. But he didn’t want Jessie half-cocked about some world-saving mission they didn’t really know anything about. “Do you know how it’s supposed to happen?”

“What? The Return? Not exactly.”

“Not at all.”

“So what?”

“No one knows. For all we know, sending all the supernaturals back to their various planes also means wiping out the human race.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Why? A burst of power that strong? Blowing all those supernaturals into another dimension, and you think our world’s going to end up unscathed?”

“Well, maybe that’s not how it works.”

Her voice had a frustrated tremor. He was getting her where she needed to be. A little afraid. Enough to make her cautious instead of giddy at the wonder of her achievement. “Then how?” he asked, leaning forward.

She swallowed. Her wings twitched when she shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Lockman took a deep breath and eased back. He made himself visibly relax so Jessie could see the transition he wanted to convey. “None of us do, Jess. I’m not even sure it’s legit. Sounds too good to be true. But can I give you one last illustration?”

The black veins and graying skin did nothing to hide the typical teenage look of skeptical shock. “You’re asking permission to lecture me?”

“The people in the hospital, the ones you helped. They were innocent bystanders.”

Jessie’s face scrunched up. She unfolded her arms, shaking her head. “I
helped
them.”

“But you didn’t mean to. You went there to save Ryan, not the others.”

“Big deal. That should be a good thing.”

Lockman said nothing. He had to let her come around to the point on her own, otherwise she’d never fully believe it.

The silence made the air feel thick. Lockman’s nose itched, but he refused to scratch it. A ghost of Kress’s cologne hung in the office.

Jessie looked at the floor. “If I hadn’t helped. If I’d screwed something up…” She met Lockman’s eyes. “I could have hurt them, is that what you’re saying?”

He kept his teeth clenched.

Jessie shifted from foot to foot. Her wings fluffed once, blowing a breeze that smelled of sweat. “This whole un-lecture thing you’re trying? Driving me a little batty.” She rolled her eyes. “Uncomfortable’s probably a better word. I’d like to avoid bat puns for a while, if that’s cool with you.”

He couldn’t hold back the smile. The girl had a way of turning the most serious of things into a joke, which wasn’t much of a skill, except that her jokes were actually funny. “Okay. So next time we play an op by ear, I shouldn’t say we’re winging it?”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “That’s just awful. Even for you.”

Her skills with the jokes and sarcasm also had the knack for turning away uncomfortable conversations. Time to call her on it.

“Funny time’s done.”

She gave him an exaggerated salute. “Sir, yes, sir.”

He responded with a flat stare.

“Fine,” she growled. “I get it. Not that I didn’t already know it. Remember me? The girl who got possessed by an evil soul and murdered thousands? I know mojo can backfire. I know it can fuck shit up faster than a bad roofie at a rave.” She waited half a second to see if that got any reaction—an eyebrow raise, maybe—and was disappointed. “What
you
seem to
always
forget is that it can do good. And the more I learn about my own power, the more that becomes true.”

Lockman thought of the cool touch on the back of his neck, that tiny spark that seemed to hold him together when he felt ready to fly apart. He had thought—hoped—it was a sign from Kate, but according to the debrief on the chopper on the way back to HQ, Jessie had explained that wasn’t possible.

Kate was really gone. For good.

Still, something had touched him. Something had helped focus him on the next move. Mojo? His own internal instincts? Who knew anymore? So many times those things had become a blend impossible to separate. He knew he had a hint of the power of his former soul within him. Either passed on by genetics, or left behind like a fingerprint, even Craig Lockman had a little mojo.