“Can’t be? Is that what you’re going to insist, that something can’t be when it already is? You just said you have no memory, but that’s obviously not true. You have no purpose, but that’s not true, either. No future? We all have futures as long as we’re alive, and I’m working on the part after we die. Jury’s still out on that. Now for heaven’s sake, tell me all you can about this whole thing, and remember… I’m not your average listener. Begin with this priest. How did he find you? How did he know where to look? When are you going to contact him and ask him, now that you have his card?”
I thought about her words for awhile, then about Father Gabe. She was asking the same questions I was. “I don’t know how he found me. They’ve all moved on. They’re happy and safe. Nothing good can come from me contacting him. I’d be doing it for me, you see, not for them. It would be selfish of me, uncaring. Besides, I’m not so sure I could stand to see them happy without me. Am I terrible to say that?”
“Absolutely!” Her eyes twinkled. “There’s no word for how awful bad that would be. Now who is ‘they’? Who is happy and safe?”
“His name is Lane, and he has a young sister Shae. And my mother was Faith.”
“Stop. Faith
was
your mother? Past tense?”
“No, I—”
“You inhabited a girl, whose mother was Faith, right? What was your name?”
“I was Sydney.”
“Sydney. So she took a back seat while you drove, so to speak. And now you’re Annie, and we don’t know who’s in the back seat. Jane Doe, but who is she? The way I see it, everything happens for a reason. There are no such things as coincidences. This priest came back into your life for some purpose, Annie. He was put there. Why are you so important that he travels a thousand miles to run down a rumor? Come on, girl, have a little faith. Don’t you
want
to find out who you are? I’ll bet he already knows. How about discovering for yourself how you came to be here in the first place, and how you got involved with the Seattle Legnas so quickly?”
She stopped then, and smacked her forehead. “Wait, wait… you took over in the van. It was Jane who was sucked into the Legnas cult. We got what was left of her… you… what, on the twentieth? You asked for newspapers going back a week. You knew something was
about
to happen down there, so you were probably right there prior to that time. Where was it? Tucson? Yet you come to us as a Jane Doe with that fresh Legnas tattoo burned into your hand and your system loaded with enough junk to kill anyone. The Legnas don’t brand just anyone who shows up at their door and wants in, even if that anyone could find their door. They find you, not the other way around, so Jane Doe must have been one of their acquisitions. These are questions that all have answers. You have to want to know. Think about it. This priest can help you.”
I promised I’d think about it before putting the card in my back pocket. I could feel it smoldering there, demanding attention as I finished washing the dishes. Later I moved it to my purse, and later still put it on my nightstand. The following day it went back into my pocket again, around and around. What did it mean? Who or what was Father Gabe tracking, and why? How could he know that the real me was still whoever I truly was? Or that I’d been shoved into yet another host half a continent away? How did he know
any
of it in the first place?
Marge had guessed I was a spirit. I let her guess stand because it satisfied her, but it wasn’t an answer I could accept. I would certainly know I was a spirit, wouldn’t I? All I did know was what was happening to me from moment to moment. The big question was why my past assignment and this one involved hosts who were tangled up with the Legnas, first Sydney and now Jane. Also, why could I remember everything about my experience in Arizona when I’d never been able to remember much about past assignments before? Jane Doe? Unless someone showed up to supply information on her, she’d remain a complete blank for as long as she was assigned to me, which posed another question. If I couldn’t learn anything about her, what possible purpose did I have? That’s where Marge was wrong. To have purpose, you had to know where you’d been and where you were going.
Over the next couple of days I picked up the phone several times to call Father Gabe, but always hung up before it rang. I needed more information, and Marge wasn’t helping one bit. She was as relentless as Faith, preying on my curiosity. I made it another two weeks to the first of April before she got the best of me.
I was about to announce my decision to destroy the card, but never got the chance. “Here,” she said, tossing an envelope across the breakfast table. “Look inside.”
The Legnas Lair
Pharzeph seemed pleased. The High Chancellor was known for his insight and cruelty in matters involving religious clergy. Unfortunately that cruelty sometimes spilled over onto those beneath him in the hierarchy, aided by his great, coiled whip. Its pain could only be imagined by those who’d not yet savored its bite.
No one with human flesh could withstand it.
Samyaza, Uvall, and Crocell all knew the whip well. Samyaza, kneeling, bowed low, with Uvall and Crocell prostrate behind him, but it seemed this time that there would be no reprisals for the Sarah Cummings failure, or two previous ones of lesser importance. The Seattle chapter had not been expected to grow as it had, so for once Pharzeph’s whip lay dormant, coiled at his side. Of course, appearances could be deceiving. The Reverend Henry Cummings was considered archetypical of weaker clergy, a man whose faults should have made him easy prey, therefore a perfect model for other demolitions to come. This fact could not have gone unnoticed.
Pharzeph remained seated. “Rise, my brothers,” he began. “I’ve not come to punish, but to help. We will begin with failures, specifically the Cummings girl, and then move on to your more creative projects, which I find most interesting. As for Sarah Cummings, I have deciphered the information you have already gleaned from her mind and decided that she is not with any of her usual friends, or with their friends. What does that mean? Samyaza?”
“We have already eliminated the hospital personnel as a possibility, Pharzeph. Are you suggesting that she has somehow made contact with someone outside who—”
“Does your conclusion about the hospital personnel seem logical?”
“We all thought someone from there must have befriended her, but—”
“But you engaged Raphael, who convinced you otherwise. Instruct him to return. Demand that he track down each of those who attended her, find where they live, and personally investigate each location. My senses tell me we are dealing with an unusual situation here, one or more higher forms. They do exist, as you well know, and they can harm our movement. However, if we discover them before they marshal their defenses or unite, we can easily destroy them.”
“Yes, Pharzeph.”
“It would be best, when we discover such beings, that termination follows immediately. That will be your obligation from this moment forward, Samyaza, is that clear?”
“Yes, Pharzeph. I understand.”
“The girl is not wandering among the streets of Seattle. She is holed up somewhere. I should be able to determine where that is, but something is blocking me. Something, or someone, is hiding Sarah’s soul.”
The Williams’ Residence
I shook two plane tickets out onto the kitchen table. They were from Seattle to Tucson and back, leaving in two days. “What if it’s a mistake,” I whispered, realizing what she’d done. “What if my heart breaks in two?”
“Then you’ll come back home and I’ll nurse you back to health. If you don’t go, your heart will still break. Doesn’t that make it worth any risk?”
“Marge, I’m not even sure what I’m looking for.”
“You’ll be finding out what the priest is all about, that’s what you’ll be doing.”
“Yeah, I get that part, but it wasn’t Lane who came here, so why am I so focused on him? I’m not in his life anymore.”
“Go find out why you’re so focused on him. Be done with it one way or another. My mama always said it was impossible to walk forward if you were always looking over your shoulder. Now I want you to make a list of things we’re gonna go out and get for your trip. First something to wear, something that’s right for Tucson in April.” She squinted at me. “Beige skirt and some sort of flowered blouse. That gets my vote. Next stop’s gonna be my hairdresser. You need some bounce in that hair of yours. Last on the list… shoes! Those things you’re wearing just won’t do it. You want something that’ll make you feel secure, no matter what. Lace-ups! Makes no difference what kind, as long as they have laces you can draw up tight and tie in double knots at the top. Yes!”
I just stared. What on earth was happening?
* * *
Marge would have driven me to the airport on the morning of my flight, but she was called to the hospital for an emergency at the last minute. I took that as a bad omen, a sign I shouldn’t go, but she’d already made an outgoing phone call. A taxi would arrive any minute, she told me, as she got into the Green Hornet, her Volkswagen Bug. I waited while she rolled the window down.
“Don’t over-think this trip, Annie. Just go with it, and let the Almighty lead you where He may.”
“But what if they’re really happy?” I asked, biting a fingernail so I wouldn’t give into tears. “What if I can’t handle it?”
“You’re tougher than you think, my young friend. You’ll handle whatever is sent your way. Call me if you need to talk.” Then she leaned out the window. “Those tickets are nonrefundable, Annie. Medical approval for travel by assumed name and all that. There’s some pocket money in there, too, in a separate envelope. The cab’s already paid for, including a tip. I put my neck out for you, Annie. You’re going!”
No sooner had she pulled away than a yellow cab pulled into the driveway. The driver was a burly man with a week’s growth of beard.
“You my client?” he asked through his open window. “That your luggage?” He pointed at my small case.
I nodded. Marge was right; I was going. There was no way out, but maybe there’d be lots of traffic, or he’d get a flat tire, or the flight would be canceled. Maybe there’d be something wrong with the tickets after all, and the airline would turn me away. Somehow, none of that seemed probable.
Reluctantly, I got in.
Traffic was minimal; we hit all the green lights but one, and then we were literally skidding to a stop at the American Airlines terminal. So much for the delay I’d hoped for. At least the airport was crowded, a good thing. I could melt into the crowd, more or less, even though I was a little out of practice. I could also hide behind my hat. I pulled the black felt low over my ears and tilted the brim so it partially covered my eyes. Annie Smith had amazingly large, brown eyes, but her best feature—my best feature—was her long, wavy, golden hair. I wondered if Shae’s hair would look like it when she got older. Marge’s hairdresser had layered it so there were longer curls below, then shorter ones around my head. If only I wasn’t so tall! It was hard to blend when you were a good head taller than everybody around you. I’d been slouching a lot, and it drove Marge crazy. “Stand up and be proud,” she’d bark whenever she caught me, but Marge wasn’t here now. I was slouching.
I made my way inside, following a young couple with twin girls. It was obviously the twins’ first flight, and one was really excited, full of questions. “Then what happens, Mommy?”
Mommy smiled at Daddy, gesturing for him to take over from there.
“Well, Carrie,” he said, “the pilot wakes up the airplane’s engines so they’re going a lot faster, and pretty soon the whole plane starts to move, just like our car. You’ll be able to look out the window and see things move.”
“Do they move real fast, like when Wile E Coyote is chasing the Road Runner?” Her sister remained quiet.
“Not right away. It’s more like Wile E and Road Runner start off walking, and then they walk faster, and then they run a little, then a lot, and finally zooooooom, the Road Runner takes off down the road with a great big cloud of dust!” He gestured with a flat hand, zipping it forward.
That got a giggle from Carrie, but not her sister, who’d begun to lag. If her hand hadn’t been held, she’d probably have stopped in her tracks. Something wasn’t sitting well with her, but Daddy continued.
“Remember Peter Pan? We’ll be just like Wendy and Peter, flying way up high over the ground, wheeee!”
That did it! The lagging twin started to cry for some reason. “I don’t wanna go,” she wailed. “I’m scared.” Then she dug in her heels.
I decided to stop right where I was, since nobody was looking at me… for once.
“It’s perfectly safe,” Mommy was saying. She’d squatted down. “Look around you, Ginnie. All these people are really happy they’re going to have a plane ride. Do they look scared?” The girl sniffed, rubbing her nose with the heel of her hand. “See that lady with the white hair, over there in the wheelchair? Does she look scared? Do you see anyone who looks scared?”
I should have gone on by, but it was too late to correct that mistake. Ginnie twisted farther around and spotted me. She pulled away from her mother’s hand and was suddenly holding mine. “Are you getting on an airplane?” she asked.
“Sure am,” I said, kneeling so we were the same height. I wanted to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but knew better.