Worth Dying for (A Dying for a Living Novel Book 5) (20 page)

Jesse

“
O
h. My. God.” I press my forehead to the glass window. “Could this place be any freaking creepier?”

“At least it’s daylight,” Ally offers. “I’m sure this place is more menacing at night.”

Early morning sun or not, the landscape is barren. There’s nothing for miles and miles in any direction. To the east of us sits a cluster of buildings that no one on Earth would call a “town” except the crazy fucker who named it Cochise.

To the west is the large, desolate army base. The place looks like a square fortress of white limestone, stark and obvious in the landscape. The compound is enclosed in a solid wall, the same color as the rest of the buildings it protects. The wall must be at least twenty feet high.

Gloria drives to the west side of the compound and parks the Jeep behind a big boulder about a quarter of a mile from the wall.

“We’ll leave the car here,” Gloria says.

“What if someone steals it?” Maisie asks, twisting in her seat to look around.

“We are going
into
the compound, right?” I ask. I see Gloria’s drawing again, all the bodies tossed in the sand that could easily be the stretch of land between here and the enclosed army base.

“Yes,” Gloria says, stepping out of the Jeep.

“Well this isn’t ideal for a quick getaway.” Ally frowns and slides out of the Jeep too, leaving me and Maisie to look at each other with weary faces.

Gloria nods in the distance, toward the end of this stretch of wall. “If you stay on this side, no one from the town will see the blast.”

“Fine, fine,” I say and start marching toward the end of the wall. I’ve been walking for a full ten minutes, longer than a quarter mile between the car and the closest edge of the wall, and I still haven’t reached the end. The compound must be huge inside. Of course, once upon a time it had been a fully operational military base. But that was twenty years ago. I don’t think anyone has been here in years, not since Brinkley and Caldwell managed to expose the camps for the hellholes they were and got them shut down. Was Brinkley the last one to come here? Gathering intel on Caldwell from old records in hopes of finding anything that could bring him down?

“You let the monster out,” I think aloud to Brinkley. “And here I am trying to stuff him back in.”

Finally, once I see the end of the wall in the distance and know I’m about as far from anyone and anything as I can get, I decide to do it. I lean my body against the stone barrier and feel the warm rock through my clothes.

Gabriel appears, a striking figure in the desert landscape. So beautiful in fact with his black suit and brilliant green eyes that my breath hitches at the sight of him. He watches me through dark lashes.

The air around me shimmers, then kicks to life, sparking to flame.

“Let’s keep the noise level down,” I tell him. “So one big explosion should do it.”

The power rolls through me, making me grimace enough that my lips pull back and expose my teeth. My eyes pinch shut against the intensity. I can feel my jaw clench and unclench with each wave of power. All the muscles in my body do the same. I’m on the verge of screaming, when the release comes. The power flares, slamming into the barrier.

The first explosion rips a giant crack through the wall, chunks of rock raining down on me until I quickly erect my barrier to protect me from the larger flying rubble.

So much for one and done.

I reposition my body against the rock and pulse again. Immediately, I fall forward when the rock tumbles out from beneath me. I’m glad my shield stays in place, since I’m sure falling onto a pile of jagged rock, or concrete, or whatever the hell this shit is, would’ve hurt.

When the dust clears, my shield fades. I collapse onto the rocks. The pain isn’t too bad, but a sharp jolt shoots up my knee into my hip. Another jolt shoots from my wrist to my elbow where I catch myself.

Gabriel appears in front of me, his sleek black wings trailing through the sand. His back is to me as he surveys the carnage.

Bodies. All over the place like red solo cups on a frat house lawn.

There must be no less than thirty bodies littering the yard between the barrier and the closest building. They lay where they were slain, in various stages of decomposition. I’m super thankful that it doesn’t smell like death. The carrions have done a good job of carting away most of the flesh that would have created such a stench. As if he knew I was talking about him, a crow takes flight, lifting up into the sky, cawing his protest.

The rest of the bodies look… mummified.

“What the hell happened here?” I ask, pulling myself to standing. The rubble shifts beneath me as I slide off the mound onto the soft earth. I bump into Gabriel and find him solid. I’d forgotten he could do that. Never around Rachel or Maisie, of course. But when it’s the two of us, his body can feel as real as Ally’s.

The back of our hands brush and his feathers twitch. The tie around his neck deepens to a midnight blue.

“He wanted blood from everyone who had harmed him.”

“So he
has
been back here.” I lean against Gabriel’s arm. I keep expecting him to disappear, to vaporize like a shimmery heat on the horizon. But he remains as solid as the rock I blasted through. “Maybe this place won’t have the effect on him that we are hoping for.”

“He will be unnerved,” Gabriel assures me. He stretches back his left wing and encircles me. It darkens out the bright desert sun for a moment, enveloping me in a thick shadow. “I am worried for you.”

“Worried?” I snort.

“Worry or concern,” he says, looking down at me as he uses his wings to curl me closer to his body. “I believe those are the words your people use to convey this sentiment.”

A feather brushes my cheek, giving me chills. “You told me this would work. Are you saying you’re not sure if Caldwell—”

“Caldwell does not concern me,” Gabriel says. “You concern me.”

I push the soft black feathers out of my face before one of them stabs me in the eye. “We talked about cryptic messages, Gabe. If you want me to understand something, you have to articulate the entire idea, remember?”

Gabriel considers my face for a moment. And the longer that he stares at me the more reality thins and I realize I’m looking at another being. Not an angel. No, not an angel but a—

“It will be difficult for you,” he says and the desert comes into focus. “You will choose Alice, I believe. But it will be very hard for you.”

His wings spring open in a great whoosh and the air kicks up around me. He disappears entirely as Ally and Maisie clamber through the hole created by my blast. His dramatic departure blows sand into my eye. I pinch it closed, blinking furiously.

“Not cool!”

Maisie shrieks and slides on the rubble, dropping the fat pug in her arms. Ally grabs her elbow at the last moment to steady her.

I blink away tears. It takes a moment before I can see both Ally and Maisie clearly.

It will be very hard for you to choose.

Rachel

“
B
ut
you
must
kill her,” Uriel says, his vehemence apparent. Wind from the cracked window blows back his fiery locks. It’s strange seeing him appear so real. Jesse and I talked about that once. We compared notes trying to decide exactly what these so called angels were. I must admit, my idea of the ancient aliens appearing as a benevolent force never seemed more correct than it does now.

My affinity for Thundercats can’t be overlooked. After all, if you were a crazy alien trying to brainwash a girl into doing something insane, wouldn’t you appear as her childhood hero? Why else would a so-called angel come to me in this ridiculous get up?

“Something’s changed.” I stare at the endless highway stretching before me.

I imagine Brinkley holding Jessup by the shoulders the day they checked me into the asylum. I was kicking, screaming, thrashing. But before they sedated me, I heard Brinkley console her:
We’re a team. If we have to, we sacrifice for the team.

“You want Earth to burn.”

I give Uriel a sharp look. “Don’t be dramatic.”

He raises a malicious eyebrow. “What do you want? Truly?”

I look out at the road, Cochise 15 miles.

We’re a team. If we have to, we sacrifice for the team.

We were a team. What are we now? What is Jessup to me now?

“Your desires change so rapidly within your own mind, that I do not comprehend them,” Uriel goes on. He doesn’t bother to look out at the road. He continues to stare at me with his brow furrowed. We could be driving through hell, a trailer park, or a battlefield. He seems equally indifferent to the landscape.

I consider his words for a heartbeat longer until I have my answer. “I want Caldwell dead and that last little piece of Chaplain erased from existence.”

“You are not strong enough to destroy him. You will have to kill the others first, if you hope to achieve that.”

A memory surfaces from the inky depths of my mind. I was in my new apartment in St. Louis. The setting sun had just touched the river and it was as if it was dissolving into the water, melting into a stream of red, pink, and orange. The uppermost part of the sky was already turning a darker violet. I remember in that moment wondering where they’d put Chaplain’s body—I hadn’t known at the time as I do now, that the partis simply incinerate to ash when their power is absorbed.

I sat there wanting to see his body, wanting to put an ear to his chest and make sure there was no heartbeat. I still want that.

Brinkley knocked on the door of my apartment, calling out in the gruff voice I miss so terribly much, and I told him to come in.

He didn’t come in alone.

Trailing behind him was this scrawny kid. She hunched over slightly, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest. Part of her hair had been singed off on one side but was regrowing. She looked like she’d just walked out of Hell, literally, ash marks and fire scarred to prove it.

“This is Jesse,” Brinkley said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “She’s the newest member of our team.”

I arched an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“I’d like her to bunk with you until we can set her up with her own place,” Brinkley said. What he didn’t say spoke volumes:
I wasn’t expecting this anymore than you were, but we’re doing this anyway. Throw me a bone here.

“And I’d like her to shadow you in the Hutch replacement Saturday,” he went on. “Show her how it’s done.”

How it’s done. So she had NRD and wanted to be an agent. I gave Jesse another once-over. She didn’t look like the kind of overzealous kid who might sign up for this job for the sheer morbidity of it. So she was here because, like me, she was running away from something worse.

“Hi Jesse,” I said at last, climbing off the sofa. “You can put your stuff in here.” I pointed toward my bedroom.

“I don’t have any stuff,” she said.

I expected her to burst into tears by the strain in her voice. But her jaw set tight and her chin lifted a little higher. So I’d been right. She was a survivor.

“I’m going to give Jesse some money to get started. I know tomorrow is your only day off, but I was hoping you’d take her shopping, show her around the city. Get her a bus pass and all that.”

“I can do it myself,” Jesse piped up.

“St. Louis can be a little rough,” Brinkley said. He’d always been overprotective. “It’d be nice if Rachel can give you an idea of the better parts of town before you go off on your own.”

“Don’t worry,” I told her, sensing her annoyance. “I’m not your chaperone. You can do whatever the hell you want. But I hope you’ll let me come with you because I
love
shopping.”

“I hate shopping.”

“Then you definitely should take me along. Unless you want to wear the same pair of underwear
forever
.”

That got a smile out of her.

“Cherry Coke float?” I asked. “I’ve got the Coke and the vanilla.”

She hesitated, looking for the catch. “That’d be awesome.”

Brinkley gave me an appreciative smile. “I’ve got to get back to the bureau and process her paperwork. Call me if you need anything.”

“Yes,
dad
.” Brinkley wasn’t fooled by my tone and I was glad he didn’t take it personally. I wanted the kid to warm up to me.

When the door closed, Jesse sat on the bar stool and watched me make her float. Two scoops of vanilla and half a can of Cherry Coke. I slid it across the counter with a teaspoon.

She frowned at it. “This is a tiny spoon! Don’t you have anything bigger?”

“Desserts are best enjoyed with small spoons. Trust me.” I nodded at the float when her brow creased. “Try it.”

She did and nodded. “You’re right.”

“And it’ll last longer,” I added, before moving right into better topics. “You can have the bed tonight. You look like you need a good night’s sleep. Besides, I sleep like the dead no matter where I pass out. So the couch will be fine with me.”

“I can’t take your bed,” she said.

“You can and you will,” I said. “The only problem here is you didn’t laugh at my joke ‘sleep like the dead’…get it?”

She gave me a pitiful smile. “You need better jokes.”

“See if I make you another float!” I said and tried to steal her glass.

She slid away from me. “No, no. I’m sorry. This is so good.”

I gave her a once-over. “What do you usually wear?”

She frowned at herself. “Jeans. Hoodies.”

I frowned. “I don’t know who sells those.”

“I like comfortable clothes.”

“Hmmm. We’ll go for urban chic then. I know some boutiques downtown that might have some stuff you like.”

“I don’t want to spend too much money.” She looked at her hands self-consciously before abandoning the little spoon altogether. She lifted the glass and gulped down the remainder of the float.

“The FBRD is footing the bill. Consider it a sign-on bonus. And you have to start all over, so we can’t be frugal here. Is there anything you need tonight?”

Jesse shrugged. “I don’t have a toothbrush.”

“Let’s go out for dinner and we’ll pick one up at the drugstore on the way back. There’s a Walgreens by this little Mexican restaurant I love. They have this amazing goat cheese dip.” I pretended to drool on myself. “We’ll stop there and get you the essentials. Deodorant. Toothbrush. A hair brush. Makeup, whatever you want. They have all that.”

“I don’t wear makeup,” she said.

I placed one hand on my heart. “Well, I guess we will keep you anyway.”

She looked at the empty float glass and then back up at me again.

“Want another?” I asked, trying to read the expression on her face. Longing? Shyness? I wasn’t sure.

“No, I’m full. Thanks.” Then her expression darkened even more. “I’ll pay you back. Just figure up what all this costs. Add your rent and utilities and—”

“Let me stop you there,” I said, squeezing her arm. She flinched and I dropped my hand. Abuse then. I knew that reaction as well as anyone. The way the body could react to sudden unwanted touching.

“I don’t want to owe you anything,” Jesse said and now I was sure she really would cry.

“You won’t. I’m not doing any of this because I want you to owe me something.”

“But the money—”

“Fuck the money,” I said.

Her eyes went wide and the she let out a startled laugh.

“This is your
job
. You’re getting paid. The bureau will reimburse me for any expense I report. They have to cover your expenses because this can be a shitty job, and you deserve to be paid well. Not everyone can do it.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced. “Brinkley said only 2% of the population has NRD. And only a small percentage of those people are willing to be death replacements.”

“Death replacement agents,” I corrected and put her glass and spoon in the sink. “Yes. So you’re very valuable. Got it? The least they can do is buy you some clean underwear.”

This won me another surprised laugh. “And they’ll pay you back?”

“Oh sure. It’s in the contract. Did Brinkley show you the contract?” I asked.

She bit her lip. “I had to sign it.”

I frown. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in August.”

So
young
. Granted, I didn’t have much on her, but she wasn’t even old enough to
be
a death-replacement agent. She’d be shadowing me until August at least.

“So what do you want to do before dinner?” I asked her. I pulled the ice cream from the freezer again and started to make my own float. Seeing her devour hers had awakened in me a hunger I didn’t know I had.

She shrugged. “I wish I could call someone.”

“A friend?” I asked, my curiosity piqued as I licked ice cream off the spoon.

“Yeah,” she said. Another self-conscious smile spread over her face. “I want to tell my best friend I’m not dead. She’ll freak out.”

I open another can of Cherry Coke and nod toward the cell phone on the table. “Help yourself.”

The kid hopped off the stool and snatched up the phone resting on a turquoise placemat. She flipped it open, punched some numbers and waited. The longer she waited, the more nervous she looked, gnawing on her lip first, then her thumb. Finally, her brow shot up. “Mrs. Gallagher? Is Ally home?”

Jesse’s face hardened.

“It’s me, Jesse.” She frowned and hung up without saying goodbye.

She stared at the phone on the table for a minute longer before she seemed to realize I was still in the room, watching her.

“I’m tired,” she said. “I think I’ll take a shower and then a nap, if you don’t care.”

I nodded toward my bedroom. “There’s clean towels in the closet opposite the toilet. Just don’t pick a red one. That’s the color I’m using.”

She disappeared from the room leaving me to eat my float alone.

I would catch Jesse making phone calls to that number at all hours, day and night. But she would never say anything. Though once or twice she did leave a message. I thought she would go on like that forever and ever until about two days after Jesse’s first death replacement.

She picked up her phone—in celebration of her first replacement, Brinkley had gotten her own cell phone—and started to dial a number. Half way through the dialing she stopped.

“I—” Her voice trailed away.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, when she didn’t finish.

“I can’t remember her number.”

Since she’d been sneaking around with mine up until this point, trying over and over again to contact this Ally but never getting through—either her bitch of a mother would shoot her down right from hello, or she’d delete the answering machine messages Jesse left—whatever the case, contact had not been made, but I had the number.

I punched it into her phone for her. Thinking maybe she wanted to try from the new phone, throw the bitch off her trail. Caller ID was still a thing back then.

But Jesse wouldn’t press send on her phone.

“What’s wrong now?” I asked.

“I can’t remember her name.”

“Ally,” I said, hoping to knock a memory loose for her.

“Ally,” she repeated.

“Ally. Smart. Really good at track. Was going to be valedictorian or some shit. Go to college. Then law school and join her brother’s law firm.” I was pretty sure this Alice girl was the subject of some homoerotic wet dreams, but that hardly seemed like the thing to bring up
now
.

“I can’t—I can’t remember her face. Oh my god, what the—” the first wave of panic washed over her. Her face seized up and her fingers blanched as she squeezed her phone.

“Hey, hey,” I said, pulling the phone out of her hand. “It’s okay. It’s normal. Death replacing tends to burn through a few memories. Be grateful. I’m sure there’s some shit you wanted to forget.”