Waiting For A Star To Fall (Autumn Brody Book 2) (30 page)

"But where?" Evan challenged him. "In another room?"

Slamming the laptop shut, Kevin rose to his feet. "Let's find out. We don't have much time."

* * *

I'm there again. The abandoned operating theatre beneath campus. The place where he brought me to die like the rest of his jarred-heart girls. His Marys, bloodied and battered for rejecting him.

Strapped into the chair, weak and dizzy, I watch as Louise enters the room. Her dress is dragging in the dirty water and congealing blood on the tiles, but it doesn't seem to bother her. Reaching for the scalpel beside me, she cuts me loose and steps backwards, waiting.

"Thank you," I tell her, massaging my wrists gently. "I'm so cold..."

"You know why."

I'm in denial. A concussion can't kill you, can it? Who am I kidding? Of course it can. Head trauma. Shock. The longer I keep slipping into this darkness, the further I drift from safety.

"Everyone denies it when they face down death," she whispers. "The soldiers would stare down their wounds and insist they were trivial, even as their skin turned to grey. Even I couldn't believe it when Death came for me..."

The wound upon her chest begins to swell: first a pinpoint, then a quarter-sized stain. She will bleed out, as she always does.

"What happened to you?"

"A robbery. They were frightened. I was distracted by a visitor, seeking my help."

I press my palm to my chest, struggling to steady my frantic heart. She mirrors me, pressing her hand to the gaping wound in her own.

"You can get out of this, like last time. You know the way."

A rush of images flood my mind: Miraj, showing me the way, coaching me through my initial escape; Nikki, beckoning me to safe passage; Kearney hovering above me and striking my face, a scalpel buried in his neck.

I know what she's telling me, but I can't consider it. I won't. My hand raises to shield my eyes, blocking her from view. As if that can possibly stop her.

Her own hand strains across the divide, her parched lips sealed, yet her voice is thunderous in my skull. “Let me in.”

I refuse and back away, the panic swelling within me. Because as desperate as I am to live through this, I also know that there is a very angry and very vicious spirit in the room with my corporeal self. If I open the damn door, who will come strolling in?

“It's the only way.”

I'm begging for another solution, pleading with her for some alternative, but I can remember that struggle within these tunnels, and I understand now that I owe my life to this curse some tell me is a gift. I feel the ice in my veins, first claiming my fingertips, then my hand. My wrist surrenders and I rub it furiously with my other palm. Contagion. I can feel the space inside me, feel the door opening.

Grounding. I focus on Andrew now, on his love for me. The little things that I cherish: the feel of his breath upon my neck when I wake up in his arms; the way his forehead crinkles when he's heatedly debating politics; the way he brings me a brownie when I'm sad. The love he has for me that never wavers, even when I doubt that I deserve it. I will anchor myself to him, to the life we share. To the life I don’t want to end this way.

Because this time, it's not a dream. I understand it now, as I hear Veronica's frantic voice cutting through the fog. Out of its mists, Louise re-emerges, gesturing behind me.

With one last thought of Andrew, I squeeze my eyes shut. "Come in," I urge her.

* * *

Veronica wrenched her wrist sideways, shimmying the tie down her left hand as she continued to plead with her captor.

"Morgan,
please
, put her down," Veronica repeated, shifting up onto her knees. "This isn't about Autumn, or Evan, or anyone else. This is about you and me. How is hurting my best friend going to make me happy?"

The blade hovered close to Autumn's jugular, her limp body a seeming pantomime of what Veronica knew would be her fate if she couldn't get through to the obsessive officer. Judging from the burgeoning bruise on her left temple, Autumn had taken a terrible hit to the head. If the knife didn't kill her, the head injury might.

"Isn't that what you told me in your letters?" Veronica prodded. "That you would make me happy?"

"I suppose... No, it wouldn't help. I was careful with Gabriel. I can be careful with her."

Gently, Morgan leaned Autumn against the far wall, her hair matted with what Veronica assumed was dried blood and sweat. A twist of her hand behind her back leveraged the zip tie another centimetre closer to the freedom she desperately needed.

Keep her talking
, Veronica told herself.
Someone's gotta know we're missing. I just need more time.

"Thank you, Morgan." Sincere relief. "Now, let's talk this through, because I still don't know what you hope we can have."

Her voice trailed off as the music was turned up, the same damn 80s pop song on endless repeat. With a little sway and a shuffle, Morgan began to dance around the room. She sang along in places, leaning forward to caress Veronica's cheek. She fought the urge to recoil, staying still. This was going to be her Oscar-worthy performance: everything left on this twisted, dirty stage, every word and nuance in character. She was the reluctant love interest who would eventually be swayed thanks to some bullshit plotting by a typical male writer.

"I love this song," Morgan gushed. "There's such an innocence to the love he has for his star, don't you think?"

Across the room, Autumn's eyes fluttered, her limbs twitching. Veronica made a noncommittal noise, urging Morgan to keep talking.
Is she having a seizure?
As Morgan continued to prattle on about how music was better when she was young, Veronica kept her attention on her friend. When her eyes flew open, Veronica couldn't stop herself from gasping.

Autumn's irises, once a deep green, were now an empty shade of grey.

"Is something wrong?" Mogan asked from behind her.

"No, no. It was just something you said, about music and youth. It, um, reminded me of an embarrassing story from when I was younger."
Lie. Lie well. Oscar time.

"Oh, really? I'd love to hear it."

Autumn's arms contorted into an impossible pretzel curl, her wrists flexing sharply. Her gaze locked on Veronica's and immediately, she heard an unfamiliar woman shouting inside her skull.

Keep her busy! I'm helping Autumn.

Startled, Veronica turned towards her captor for motivation to stay on task. "Well, I always enjoyed singing as a little girl. I was very shy, but if you asked me to sing, it was like all of the fear went away. Music was this magical thing. So my mom pushed me into entering talent shows, joining choir, all of that. When I was twelve, she convinced me to do this local children's talent show. And for my song... well, she clearly let her own tastes take charge."

Morgan leaned against a far wall, edging down the volume on her music. "I sense embarrassing taste in music."

"Not so much embarrassing as oblivious!" Veronica glanced over at her friend, secretly pleased to see her sliding her right wrist free of her zip tie. "My mom had me sing one of her favourite songs in the world: 'I'm The Only One' by Melissa Etheridge."

Morgan gasped, buckling over laughing. "No! Did your mother realize that Melissa—"

"Nope. She's also a huge Ani Difranco fan, by the way."
Keep it casual, Veronica. She's relaxed. She's not paying attention
. "So after I belt it out, one of the judges congratulates my mother for supporting my 'atypical sexuality'. My mom is very Liberal, but she was just
so
confused! And me, I didn't know, either. I was just a twelve year-old girl who really enjoyed singing. Music was what eventually got me to join Drama camp. Two months later, I was at Casteel, although I quickly switched majors from Music to Drama. The rest is history."

Both of Autumn's hands were free now, although they remained behind her back, perfectly in position. Icy irises stared through Veronica, cutting to her core. It was as if her friend's soul was simply... gone. No longer inside of her. Veronica had watched plenty of scary movies about possession by spirits, but never in her wildest dreams had she fathomed that the reality cut so close to the Hollywood fiction.

Bring her closer
, the voice demanded inside her head.

"Morgan?" Still chuckling, her captor eyed her quizzically. "I really, really need to pee, and I know we're in sort of an odd situation here, but I have only one good kidney, so I'm kinda freaking out..." Veronica hung her head, as if ashamed. "I barely make it through performances, sometimes. Because I'm so paranoid."

"That does put us in a predicament." Rising to her feet, Morgan swung the knife around at her side, casting her gaze between Veronica and Autumn. "Because as much as I've enjoyed this chat we're having right now, the fact remains that you've made it clear that you won't give us a chance. And knowing what you know, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with you.
Either
of you."

"I get it, okay? I do. But I'm going to piss myself in two minutes, and I'd really rather not, alright?" Veronica squirmed against her restraints, pleased that her one hand was so very close to freedom. "As a fucking woman, I'm asking you to have some decency and at least give me a bloody bucket." Glancing wildly, Veronica noticed a metallic cylinder to her right. "Or that thing! You could help me get my clothes out of the way, I'll cop a squat.
Please
! I don't want my kidney to explode!"

"Your kidney won't explode," Morgan muttered, exasperated. "But fine! Your hands stay tied."

"Fine, sure, whatever you want." Veronica bounced her butt against the ground, her kidnapped version of the universal bathroom dance.

As Morgan bent down over the cylinder to examine it, Autumn rose to her feet, steady and calm. Seizing the cable tie in her hand, she moved it over Morgan's head at lightning speed, jamming her foot into their captor's back as she choked her. Veronica scooted out of the way as Morgan dropped to the floor, throwing Autumn off balance and sending her sprawling onto the concrete. Tugging and prying at her own restraints, she watched in horror as Morgan's hands wrapped around Autumn's throat.

"You stupid, meddling bitch!" Morgan gasped. "Why couldn't you stay out of this?"

Autumn's fist swung wildly, making lucky contact with her assailant's ear. Stunned and furious, her grip loosened enough for the redhead to shimmy free, landing an upkick to the detective’s jaw. Spying the hunting knife across the room, she half-crawled towards it, white marble eyes fixated on the gleaming blade. Veronica found herself untied, yet paralyzed; helplessly, she watched as the frightening woman her friend had become stretched her hand for the weapon, only for it to be kicked away by Morgan.

"Nice try," the cop sneered. "You think I haven't been hit on the job? In the gym?"

A steel-toed boot drove into the left side of Autumn's ribcage and she howled in pain as something crackled in the air. Autumn crumpled into a weeping heap, her hands pawing at the ground as if to pull it over herself. The vicious brunette stumbled across the room towards the knife, massaging her jaw roughly.

It was then that Veronica saw it: green eyes.

"Go," Autumn croaked at her. "Go..."

Veronica shook her head, quickly taking stock of her options. A steel support rod peeking out of a nearby box caught her eye.

"I've had enough of you!" Morgan seethed, towering over Autumn. "You're just like that nosy bitch at the theatre. Phone calls, emails, harassing
my women
. Well, I'll take care of you..."

Raising the knife overhead, she crouched down, menacing her prey. Autumn looked away and groaned in pain.
Now or never
. With all of the fury she could muster, Veronica swung the steel rod at Morgan's head. A satisfying
clang
filled the room as the cop fell sideways, dazed and motionless.

"Come on, come on!" Veronica urged, dragging Autumn away by her ankles. "Get up!"

"No...She... It broke," Autumn whimpered. "I can't move, V."

"No, you can! You're Autumn Brody and you're a goddamn warrior. Now
get the fuck up
!"

"Get help," Autumn pleaded. "Leave me...
Fuck
..."

Veronica felt panic welling up inside her as Morgan's head moved slowly from side to side.
She's waking up!
While reason told her that Autumn was right, in her heart she knew that Morgan had a gun and that she would put a bullet between her best friend's eyes if she left her behind.

"Autumn, please!"

She hooked her arms beneath Autumn’s, hoping to drag her the fifteen feet to freedom, but her efforts were in vain. The dead weight of her wounded friend was simply too much for her to carry. When Morgan grabbed her by the arm and shoved her to the ground, Veronica could only cry silently.

I failed her. I fucked up
.

A gun. There was a gun, pointed at the prone body on the ground. Veronica closed her eyes and pressed her palms over her ears, waiting for the sound that would herald her world coming to an end.