Whispers in the Night Read online

  She bit back a scream.

  A black mass of living shadow hulked over Markham. The heat from before—it came off the mass in waves. She saw it radiating from the . . . thing. In all her years—all of her visions—she’d never seen anything like it.

  Somewhere in the distance, she heard the voice of Luther Vandross, and then realized it was her cell’s ring tone.

  Markham came closer, as did the blackness. She cringed.

  “He’s not going to hurt you, Karyn,” the bishop assured her. The sad thing was, he actually believed it.

  Still, it wasn’t Markham she was concerned with. Not anymore.

  The murderous Nordic reached into her bag and confiscated her phone, slipping it in his jacket pocket. “I’ll deal with you later.” Then, to Sinclair: “We need to go.” He gathered up the squib harness. Jimmy led the way out, followed by the bishop.

  “We’ll work something out,” Sinclair said.

  No, Karyn thought, you won’t.

  He left. Then went the Nordic, and, thank goodness, that shadow.

  Before the door closed, trapping her, the shadow twisted in snakelike fashion. The mound at the top—the head—faced her, shooting that unnatural heat her way. Then a horizontal crescent moon appeared, perfectly white pointed teeth flashed. The damned thing was grinning.

  Then they were gone.

  Reggie hung up his phone. “Where are you, Karyn? Damn it.”

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  He turned, embarrassed. “Um, darn it. This darn phone.”

  The man he faced was massive. Reggie was no small guy; at six feet two, two hundred and eighty pounds, he dwarfed most people he met. Now he knew how those folks felt.

  This security guard was Shaq-sized. His skin was tanned bronze, his hair light brown, with eyes like olives. Reggie could honestly say he was the strangest-looking man he’d ever seen.

  “You seem lost, sir. Can I help you with something?”

  People milled around, on beelines for Heavenly Duty’s open doors. Reggie scanned their faces. “I’m not the one that’s lost. I’m looking for my friend, Karyn.”

  “Karyn Manning?”

  “Yeah, how—”

  He tapped his earpiece. “I heard her name over the radio. I think she was taken to meet Bishop Sinclair.”

  A sigh slipped out of Reggie. “Good. That’s good.”

  “I should take you to her,” the guard said.

  Then something in Reggie flicked on, a sudden need to get to Karyn and get to Karyn now. “Can you do that?”

  The guard nodded. “Just stick close.”

  They began to move through the crowd with odd ease. People stopped short or sped up to clear a direct path for them, yet no one even glanced their way.

  They entered the foyer, detoured down a long corridor.

  “Hey, I’m Reggie, by the way. I didn’t catch your name.”

  The guard turned, and gave him the warmest smile he’d seen in a long time. “Just call me Michael.”

  Moments later, they were on a deserted floor. Reggie knew when he was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be. “Don’t you think they’re in the sanctuary by now?”

  Michael did not respond, but opened a door at the end of the floor. Reggie followed and realized this was the bishop’s office.

  “Mike, no one’s here, man.”

  Again, no response. Instead, the guard approached a bare wall and pressed his hand, fingers splayed, against the plaster. He turned to Reggie and placed a small metal trinket in his palm. “You’ll need this.”

  “What?” He looked past Michael and saw there was a door concealed in the wall. A step closer and there was a familiar voice. “Sinclair, is that you?”

  Reggie ran into the hidden room and saw Karyn tugging on a cuff that trapped her wrist to a table. He looked down to the tiny metal in his hand, and understood what it was. A cuff key.

  “Karyn.” He rushed forward.

  “I had another vision, Reggie.”

  He stopped just shy of her. “Just now?”

  “No. It’s been a while. You’re fine.”

  Still, he was hesitant. Early on in their relationship, before he understood the nature of her abilities, he’d touched her while she was in the midst of a powerful, ugly vision. That day, they both found out that not only could Karyn see visions of the past and future, but she became a cipher of the visions, for a time.

  When Reggie touched her, he saw what she saw.

  And his mind couldn’t take it.

  It was three days before he woke up again, in a hospital with an IV snaking to his arm.

  Warily, his hand hovered toward her wrist like she was a hot oven and he was afraid of getting burned. He touched her, snatched his hand back like she was hot, and then touched her again. Nothing. Good. He unlocked her cuff while she filled him in on what was what in Heavenly Duty.

  Listening to her tale of Bishop Sinclair’s Aryan security chief planning to turn his harebrained scheme against him, he was again reminded of her burden and was secretly glad the ability was hers and not his.

  She rubbed her raw wrist. “How did you find me?”

  “This guard, Mic—” He turned to introduce his ally and found the entrance to the room empty. He stepped to the door and peered into the equally empty office. “He was right here.”

  Karyn pushed past him, checked the wall clock. “Sinclair’s going on soon.”

  “What do we need to do?”

  “Give me your cell phone.”

  He handed it over. She said, “Use the desk phone to call the cops.”

  “And tell them what?”

  “I don’t know. Tell them you saw a black man with a gun chase a white girl into the church . . . that might get the whole police department plus SWAT down here.”

  “And what are you going to do?”

  “Reggie, I’ve got a date with a rifleman.”

  He stiffened. “I’m going with you.”

  “No. You’re not.”

  “Look what rolling solo has done for you so far. Should I go ahead and keep the cuff key in case we need it later?”

  She touched his hand. “You can’t come with me, Reggie. I know what I have to do and you don’t want to be there when I do it.”

  He didn’t want to, but they’d been down this road before—if she had a plan, he had to trust her. Before he could relent, she was out the door.

  It took twenty minutes to find the entrance to the balcony she’d seen in her vision. She ran into no resistance from security. No surprise there. Markham was the boss on these matters, and since he was the only legitimate threat to Bishop Sinclair, of course he’d want the guards out of the way.

  Which leaves me, she thought, a rodent of fear scurrying along her intestines.

  She’d told Reggie she knew what she had to do. It was a lie.

  The truth: Reggie was her only friend, and she didn’t want to risk him in this business. The image of that smiling darkness was fresh in her mind. It was real, as real as any vision she’d ever had. The forces at work here were sinister, indeed. And they were her load to carry.

  Creeping through Heavenly Duty’s upper level, she kept low and peered across the length of the balcony. It ringed the sanctuary—what some would call nosebleed seats—currently unfinished and unused.

  Moving to the safety rail, she peeked at the illuminated pulpit below. The crowd murmured while a live band accompanied the low voices of a mass choir. Ahead of them all was the banner and the words from the vision that led her here: POWER AND PURPOSE.

  There was movement to her left.

  She crouched and backed behind a row of new stadium seats still wrapped in plastic and not yet bolted to the floor.

  Jimmy approached the railing with a long duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Karyn didn’t need to guess what was in it.

  He unloaded the rifle, snapping pieces into place, attaching a scope, and testing the trigger, all while grinning and humming along with the choir. Whatev
er his disability was, assembling a rifle was not part of it.

  Karyn leaned out for another look at the stage. Sinclair wasn’t out yet. There was still time.

  She pulled out Reggie’s cell and dialed the number to the phone Markham took from her. It began to ring and she lowered it from her ear to seek another sound.

  Faintly, she picked up the sounds of Luther in the distance.

  Jimmy turned from his task to peer in the shadows. “Mr. Markham?”

  The Nordic stepped out, one hand digging in his jacket pocket to silence the cell.

  “I didn’t know you was coming up here,” Jimmy said, actually gleeful to see the secret puppet master.

  Markham grasped Jimmy’s shoulder. “Just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  “Right as rain. Ready to do the Lord’s work.” Karyn watched, trying to figure her next move. Unfortunately, it wasn’t hers to figure.

  Behind Markham, the shadows swirled and solidified into a hulking man-shape; it was the thing she’d seen in Sinclair’s office. It drifted toward her quickly; she had no time to react. There, before her, it hovered, still radiating heat like a furnace. Then it reversed its direction, returning to Markham until the two nearly touched. A second later, it faded like smoke.

  As if tapped on the shoulder, Markham turned in her direction. There was no way he could actually see her, but she also knew he was aware of her presence, thanks to his Dark Friend.

  “Stay here, Jimmy.” Markham approached, his hand snaking inside his jacket. He reappeared with a large saw-toothed knife, just out of Jimmy’s line of sight.

  She stood. She couldn’t outrun him and there was no point in hiding.

  “Is your name really Markham?” she said, trying to buy time. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t answer. “Are you a member of the Aryan church, or did they just hire you to kill Bishop Sinclair?”

  Markham tensed at her knowledge.

  “Hey, lady,” Jimmy said, his voice cheery. “That’s just a game. The bishop ain’t going to die. God wouldn’t let him.”

  “God doesn’t have anything to do with this, Jimmy. Right, Mr. Markham?”

  He closed the gap between them and his blade seemed to grow. Karyn rounded the seats she’d used for cover, keeping them between her and him.

  “I don’t know who you are, lady, but you picked the wrong Sunday to show up in church,” Markham said.

  She kept probing her mind for some sort of saving grace. She could scream, but she doubted it would even register over the noise of the increasingly crowded sanctuary. Her only defense at the moment was her mouth. “You’ll be gone when it’s over. When the bishop’s dead, when Jimmy’s dead. They’ll look for Markham and find out he doesn’t exist. Wicked, but smart, I’ll give you that.”

  “I don’t know who tipped you, but you’re not going to stop this,” Markham said. “Three bodies are just as simple as two.”

  With one hand, he grabbed the corner of the loose seats and tossed them aside, removing the barrier between them. He feinted and she scrambled back several steps, her back to Jimmy.

  “Mr. Markham? Why you got that knife?” Jimmy asked.

  Markham looked over Karyn’s shoulder. “Shut your mouth.”

  “You think he’s still going to shoot for you?” Karyn kept backing up, an idea in mind.

  “Doesn’t matter if he shoots or not. That gun’s a Beretta M107. I chose it because it’s one of my favorites. I’ll do fine without the dummy’s assistance.”

  “Why’d you call me that, Mr. Markham?” Jimmy asked. “I ain’t dumb.”

  “No,” Karyn confirmed, sensing his hurt. “You aren’t, Jimmy.”

  “Enough of—”

  Markham was cut off by volcanic applause from below.

  “Welcome to the First Annual Power and Purpose conference here at Heavenly Duty.”

  Karyn was startled, not from the whooping and hollering, but by the speaker’s voice. She spared a glance over the rail and caught a glimpse of her mother behind the podium.

  “The man I’m about to introduce—” Jessica Manning continued, but Karyn’s attention shifted.

  “Well, it’s showtime, lady. Time to exit, stage left.”

  Markham’s mouth became a thin line. He advanced, ready to gut them.

  “I ain’t no dummy!” Jimmy screamed, almost at random, it seemed.

  And Karyn got an idea.

  “Jimmy, hold my hand,” she said, realizing if this gambit did not work, she’d have no time to regret her error.

  Jimmy was obedient and grasped her palm.

  For the first time that day, she took control. Instead of a spontaneous vision, she summoned her ability willingly and peered into Jimmy’s past. He—

  —is an idiot. Stupid son of a bitch. A fucking retard.

  Boys surround him after school. This is the past, but it’s bright and clear. It’s remembered well. Their fists fall, but their words hurt more.

  The years shift. The setting changes. The attackers change, but the violence and the taunts remain. And filtered through a troubled mind like Jimmy’s, these boys and men are hungry monsters, their sustenance is his anguish. And—

  Karyn blinked. That was her gift. The ability to be in both places—the present and Jimmy’s mind—at the same time. Markham moved toward them, his knife leading, but his movements were slow, to her anyway.

  The blade came at her; she sidestepped easily. Her free hand struck out and grasped Markham’s wrist. In that instant she became a circuit, the transmitter of Jimmy’s vision.

  Markham screamed.

  All of Jimmy’s torment became part of Markham through her. The visions weren’t meant for him, were too much for his mind to grasp. He tried to snatch away, but Karyn held strong. In this manner, she was the mightier one.

  “It’s my pleasure,” Karyn heard her mother say through it all, “to bring you a true man of God. Rise to your feet and welcome Bishop Horace Sinclair.”

  Applause rose.

  Karyn continued pumping her visions into Markham.

  His knife clattered as it hit the floor; his free hand flew to his head and tore at his platinum hair, as if to snatch the images out of his skull.

  Karyn let him go. Markham writhed and spun, screaming, “I am me. I am me. I ain’t no dummy.”

  He spun over the balcony rail.

  There was a mighty racket as his body fell into the bandstands, destroying a set of drums. Karyn peered over the rail at the broken, twisted form that used to be Markham. The applause for Sinclair ceased. Someone screamed.

  “Be calm,” Sinclair demanded, then, to the television crew: “Kill the cameras.”

  The red lights atop the cameras did not go off.

  “Kill the—”

  Sinclair’s chest exploded.

  Karyn’s mother ran to him, shrieking. Sinclair staggered, his expression shocked and numb, viewing the wound over his heart like there was an odd bug on his shirt and not his blood. He looked that way because it wasn’t his blood.

  The squib had gone off.

  Her mother, frantic, touched the blood seeping from the bishop’s shirt, rubbed her thumb and forefinger together, then touched the redness to her tongue. She backed away from the bishop, uncertainly.

  Confused murmurs rippled through the crowd. Sinclair glared into the balcony, as did his congregation and cameras.

  Karyn kept a softly weeping Jimmy behind her, while she glared back, knowing in her heart that she’d done the right thing, saving the bishop’s life, even at the possible cost of killing his church.

  Police and media filled the Heavenly Duty plaza on separate sides of yellow crime-scene tape. The authorities searched for facts and statements to piece together the crazed events, while reporters were willing to take what they could get from anyone willing to speculate.

  Karyn spent four hours answering questions and, by the end of it all, knew she’d be answering questions for weeks to follow.

  Finally free to go, she me
t Reggie in the plaza, wanting nothing more than to see her apartment and bed. Before she got that wish, there was one more piece of business.

  Her mother stood in the wash of bright lights with microphones shoved in front of her. Karyn could not hear her statement, but when she turned away from the media piranhas, she was clearly distraught.

  “Stay here, Reggie.” She left her friend for her mother.

  Jessica Manning didn’t notice her right away, her gaze focused on the Heavenly Duty Building.

  “Mom.”

  She blinked as if awakened from a trance. “Karyn?”

  She opened her arms to hug her mother. Mom stepped back. “Do you hate me that much, Karyn?”

  Karyn’s arms fell. “I don’t—”

  “They’re saying he’s ruined. You know that, don’t you? They’re saying all sorts of things.”

  “They? They who? Mom, I saved him.”

  “When I saw you in the balcony, I knew.” Her voice became high; her eyes were spotlights. “I knew it was some of your deviltry that brought this blight on us. You’ve destroyed a great man today, and you’ve lost us a lot of souls.”

  Mom shook her head, disgusted. “I’m sorry I gave birth to you.” She spun and disappeared into the crowd.

  Karyn couldn’t move. Stunned was not a strong enough word.

  A heavy hand fell on her shoulder: Reggie. “Did you hear that?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “She’s completely lost her—” And the rest of the words wouldn’t come. The sobs wouldn’t let them.

  He held her amidst the chaos while she wondered if all heroes cried like this.

  On top of the Heavenly Duty dome, two hundred feet in the air, a hulking being with dark, sharp eyes and a security blazer watched the two embrace. Even from that distance, he could see the tears on Karyn’s cheeks. He longed to comfort her, but knew this was part of her trials.

  An equally huge shadow materialized next to him to view the show. He fought a wave of disgust and prepared to be cordial. Those were the rules after all.

  A toothy smile split the shadow’s face. “Some day, huh, Michael?”

  “Yes, I suppose.”