Dead Living (Spirit Caller Book 5) (15 page)

Chapter 13

It’s All in Your Head

For the second time in several hours, I was screaming at the top of my lungs. Look, someone was riddling the building with bullets. Yes, Misty Malone would have pulled a pump action shotgun from who knows where and stormed outside. But let’s be clear: I am
not
Misty Malone.

I wasn’t even Javier or Isabella. I’m not even Jeremy, who was trained for this. He had his hand on the back of my neck, pushed me to the floor. His palm was sweaty and trembling, but he still pulled me to him. He yanked the table leg out and positioned it between us and the wall, just adding another flimsy layer for the bullets to go through.

My head was killing me, like how it used to whenever the
other
got too close. Long before the Whisperers had caused endless damage to me.

The smell of burned electrical cables assaulted my nostrils. I heard Myrna cry out and saw her collapse to the floor behind her counter. I saw smoke rise around us. Projectile pieces of metal, nothing more than flashes of light, bounced around the room.

Mary was struck first. She didn’t even scream or cry out. She went limp and nothing more.

Javier and Isabella pulled themselves across the floor, trying to get to us. The bouncing flashes of metallic light struck them, and they both cried out in pain. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to block out the sight of blood pooling on the linoleum.

Jeremy’s grasp loosened. I heard Connie sobbing out Manny’s name until her cries were cut short by a gasp and a thump.

I kept my eyes closed, wrapped my hands around my head, and screamed in abject terror. Screamed and screamed, and kept on screaming. They were all dead. They were all dead.

Dead. Dead. Just like you should be. If you had just kept your nose out of business that didn’t matter to you, they would all still be alive. This is your fault.

All my fault. All mine. I shouldn’t have gotten involved. I was just a stupid girl and nothing more. No one cares. No one loves me. I should just let myself die, too. Just die. Join them all in eternity.

I should never have come here with them. I should have demanded they bring me home and then I should have gotten into my car and drove. I should have stood my ground and let them kill me. I should have done something to stop this.

That’s right. You caused this. Everyone you ever loved is going to suffer for what you’ve done. You are a blight upon this world that I will wipe out.

I should have died in that bathtub. I should never have lived. The world would be a much better place if I hadn’t lived. I should be dead. If I just stood up, I could end this. I could find a knife and slash my wrists, just like I’d done before. Kill myself and no one else has to get hurt.

Pain burned across my face. I opened my eyes to see Dema standing there, her eyes red from anger. She slapped me across the face again. Harder, this time. Pain surged through me as her ethereal presence raked against my mind. Pain that went far beyond the physical etched my soul.

I blinked my eyes, and Dema hit me again. The fog began to clear. Gone was the burning rubber and plastic, replaced with baking bread and greasy potatoes. The smoke was gone, replaced with the haze of sunshine streaming in through a window, highlighting every dust particle in the air. Myrna hummed contentedly to herself behind the counter, putting trays of cookies into plastic bags. Jeremy was staring at me, like he was waiting for me to answer a question.

“Are you all right?” Jeremy asked in a tone that sounded like he’d repeated this question a few times now.

I touched his face. He wasn’t a limp body next to me. He was very real. Dema was standing across the table, her eyes red. It was obvious the others couldn’t see her this time, because Myrna should probably be screaming.

“Is this…real?” I asked. Tears trickled down my cheeks, stinging my cracked lips.

“Is what real?” Jeremy asked. “Rach, what’s wrong?”

There was only one thing that could cause me to start thinking about hurting myself, to drop into the depths of depression so suddenly.

“They’re here.”

Isabella slipped her hand inside her leather jacket, where I knew she hid a tiny pistol. Javier put one hand on his shoulder and I could see his fingers curl around the grip of his invisible-to-most sword. Connie nodded at Manny and they stood in unison, both taking fighters’ stances. Jeremy put an arm around me and pressed me against his chest.

Mary was staring into the distance, muttering to herself. Then she said, “Two outside.”

“Are you sure?”

“Two outside,” she whispered again, straining her words. “Two…outside.”

“Mary, you okay?” I asked.

“Two. Outside.” Sweat beads formed on her upper lip, glistening in the electric lights overhead. “Hurry. Can’t. Fight.”

“Rachel, you stay here. Jeremy, you’re with us,” Javier said.

Isabella handed Jeremy the handgun strapped to her thigh. He shook his head. “I’m not shooting people, Isabella.”

“It’s a tranq gun, love. It’s hard to explain corpses. Drugged people, on the other hand, are very easy to explain.”

Jeremy snorted and took the small pistol with its orange plastic muzzle wrap. Isabella tossed Connie a small metal box from one of the voluminous pockets of her coat. Connie accepted it and nodded her thanks.

“Why don’t you get a gun?” I asked.

“Taser,” Connie said with a grin. “Assault with a Taser has less jail time than attempted murder, illegal weapons, weapons without a permit, unsafe handling of a firearm…”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” I said, trying to smile through the trembling in my soul. We sat quietly, while Mary, Javier, and Isabella went downstairs. My stomach twisted itself into knots waiting. Jeremy shouldn’t even be out in this kind of situation yet. Was he even ready? Had I put him into danger again?

This is all your fault.

“Oh, fuck off,” I growled, though I couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been my own brain that had conjured that particular thought and not the work of the Whisperers downstairs.

“How are you doing, Manny?” I asked. I had to say something or else my own brain was going to drive me insane.

“Scared shitless,” he said, but he was smiling when he said it. “I thought I was done with all of this.”

Connie put a hand on his arm and said, “I’m here to protect you.”

Manny snorted. “A guy doesn’t want a girl protecting him.”

I ignored the sweat and muscle twitches, and concentrated on the laughter around me. The smell of freshly-baked bread. The sound of plastic bags as Myrna stuffed Styrofoam trays of cookies into them. The wind rattling a loose awning or sign outside, and the groan of hard plastic moving against its metal supports.

There was shouting outside, muffled by the closed windows. If I strained, though, I could tell it was raised, angry voices. Or perhaps that was because I knew there should be raised voices down below.

I jumped in my chair when I heard the muffled sound of a backfiring car. I also jumped when Myrna slammed the fridge door too hard. I might have let out a little squeak of fright when Myrna dropped a metal tray on the floor.

I was starting to think Myrna was doing this on purpose.

I heard the voices again, then they abruptly stopped. Heavy boots stomped their way up the back stairs then Javier burst in and said, “We gotta go. Now.”

I focused on my breathing in an attempt to avoid a panic attack. Or a stroke. Or to pass out from adrenaline shorting out my brain circuitry.

We’d already paid for our food, so I grabbed our containers of leftovers. That’s when I heard screams and Jeremy’s booming voice barking orders for whoever was out there to drop their weapons.

“Jeremy!”

Connie hauled me to the floor just as the sound of gunfire erupted outside. There was no mistaking this for a car backfiring.

“Myrna! Get down!”

Myrna and the other two women working in the back of the kitchen with the baked bread dropped to the floor. The kitchen was surrounded with metal equipment. I knew enough from Misty Monroe that wood and drywall was little protection. A giant steel fridge wasn’t as safe as not being shot at, but it was better than the nothing.

The others must have had the same idea because Manny and Connie were dragging themselves along the floor. Myrna tugged on the phone cord until the phone fell on the floor. She glanced at the emergency numbers on the phone’s sticker and dialed for the Mounties. 

“Hello? Hello?” She looked up, startled, and shook the phone. “There’s no reception. My husband is downstairs!”

“Stay down!” Connie snapped and grabbed Myrna’s arm, pushing her to the floor with strength I didn’t even know she possessed. “You have to stay down.”

“There’s a backdoor, but…” Myrna’s voice trailed off as she started to cry.

“Stay. Down,” Connie said. She grabbed a metal serving tray and covered her torso with it. “Manny, stay with them.”

“Where the hell are you going?” I demanded.

“I can help,” Connie said sternly. “Stay down.”

“No!” Myrna cried out. “You can’t!”

“Dude! They’re shooting outside.”

But Connie was gone, her tray in one hand and her Taser in the other. Could a stainless steel tray even hold off a bullet, or would it make it bounce all around her insides? Would it send it off right into a kidney or a lung…or her heart.

But I did as Connie said and stayed down. This wasn’t my first shoot out, so why was I so afraid? I could evaluate it later. Right now, about the only thing I knew for sure was to keep your head ducked and covered and pray a lot.

Please let everyone be okay.

Please let Jeremy be okay.

Chapter 14

A Taser is a Girl’s Best Friend

An eternity later that was probably about two minutes, Manny received a text from Connie telling him everyone was okay and for us to come downstairs. Myrna flew down the stairs ahead of us to check on her husband, and I heard her relieved sobbing at the sound of a man’s voice in the back of the store.

Outside, Jeremy, Javier, and Isabella stood next to two men on the ground. Our rental van was missing its tires, but I didn’t see any other evidence of bullet holes. Mary was standing at both men’s feet, Taser in each hand. One had a dart sticking out of him, the red plastic feathers a contrast against his black leather jacket. The other had a horrible bruise on one side of his pale face that was already turning purple.

The man with the dart sticking out of his shoulder moaned, and Javier kicked him in the guts with his heavy boots. “How many of you are there?” When the man mumbled a non-answer, Javier kicked him again. “Answer me!”

A sick sensation washed over me. I’d never seen anyone kicked like this before, someone who was down and helpless. It was…unsettling. My natural instinct was to help the man. My brain said he wasn’t innocent, but my heart said it didn’t matter.

Another kick. Another moan.

I closed my eyes and gathered up my nerve to tell Javier to stop. Jeremy beat me to it.

“Stop.”

That was all Jeremy said. I opened my eyes and saw his hand on Javier’s shoulder. It was a kind gesture, but also an unmoveable one full of authority. Jeremy expected Javier to listen. What’s more; Javier did.

Jeremy crouched down and said to the man, “Answer the question. How many of you are there on the island?”

“A dozen,” he said, coughing between the words. His words were thick, like he had a swollen tongue. “More are coming.”

“Weapons?” Jeremy asked.

“Not much. Hard to get them on the island.” He coughed more. “Saw our chance and moved. Not enough time to prepare.”

“Why are you after Rachel?”

“We’re not,” the man said.

Mary pointed the Taser at his neck.

“We were told not to interfere with her.” He coughed. “Said she was too dangerous and she wasn’t causing any trouble. Best leave her be, but we needed to find all of you. So we used the spirits to find her. Not supposed to threaten her. Just find you.”

Any other day and I would have snorted at that. The entire notion of me being too dangerous for men without names who belonged to a shadowy organization out of a Bond movie was beyond hilarious. It was stupid. I was scared just looking at a gun, let alone having them pointed at me. All they had to do was show up in the middle of the night and shoot me in my bed. I still forgot to lock my doors some nights.

I gulped. I don’t think I’d be forgetting anymore.

“Why are you here?” I asked. “Why are you shooting at me? Why are you trying to hurt me?”

“We’re not,” he said, and he spat blood out of his mouth. He pointed his chin at Javier and Isabella. “We’re after them. We heard about Izzy’s sister,” he barked out a little laugh, but it turned into a cough. “Thought we could flush everyone out that way. But word got out, so we had to move before we were ready. Didn’t expect you to drag her with you.”

I was the
her
he was talking about.

“You don’t get to call me Izzy anymore,” Isabella said.

Javier kicked him. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

“You guys know each other?” I asked.

Javier glared down. “Yeah, we know each other. Don’t we, Brent?”

“Fuck you, Javi.”

“How…” I started to ask.

“You guys used to all work together, didn’t you?” Jeremy said, bitterness in his voice.

“A long time ago,” Javier said. “Come on, we have to get out here.”

“We’re all coming to get you, Javi. You’re going to pay for what you did.”

Isabella responded by kicking him in the ribs with her combat boots. “Let’s go.”

“What about them?” I asked.

“Leave them,” Mary said coldly.

“They might need a doctor or something,” I said. “They could be hurt.”

“Rachel,” Javier said coldly, “they are here to kill us. Let them be hurt.”

“No, they’re here to kill you. I’m an accident.”