Secret Worlds (375 page)

“Dantan. The name sounds familiar.” Raphael bent down, picked up the can, and placed it in the sink.

“I’m pretty sure Dantan is like me, a fallen angel, except
he
has his powers. He has a way of pulling you in and forcing your trust. He almost had me reveal myself.” Lash tore off some paper towels and bent down to wipe the floor.

“Do you get headaches when he questions you?”

“Yes.”

“Damn.”

“Raphael!” Lash popped his head up, astonished at his language.

“I apologize for my use of profanity. You are correct. Dantan is one of the fallen, but you are nothing like him. His real name is Dantanian. He works on Lucifer’s behalf, which is why he has his powers. He’s highly skilled, able to put on many faces to deceive the humans he controls.”

“Controls?”

“Yes, controls. That is why he works as a psychologist. It’s a well-respected profession that provides a perfect cover to complement his talents. He can use his inherent gifts of mind manipulation and hide them behind the skills humans refer to as psychodynamic therapy.”

“Why would he want to manipulate a group of college kids?” Lash thought about Andrew, who had no idea of the world beyond the zombies in
Call of Duty
, and Tori, who was as antisocial as they came, and even Ellen, who could barely step out of the house without her mother’s permission.

“What do you know about their families?”

Lash plopped himself on the edge of the bed and reflected on the previous group session. “Andrew’s father works for Prescott Oil as a software engineer. That alone is suspicious. His mother is a fundraising organizer. Tori’s mom works as a secretary in the local American Federation office, and Ellen’s father is—” Lash’s eyes widened. “They’re all tied in. Ellen’s father works in Jane Sutherland’s office.”

Raphael nodded. “For some reason, there was a need to keep them under control, and Dantan was given the task to do so.”

It suddenly all made sense to him, and he saw how Dantan had been manipulating the group members, one by one: encouraging Tori’s infatuation with him; suggesting gaming strategies to Andrew, and even quashing Ellen’s surging independence. All of it was to keep them dependent on him. But why?

“And Sal, he’s one of the fallen, too. What do you know about him?” Lash asked.

“His name is Saleos. He’s Lucifer’s foot soldier.”

“That means Lucifer is working behind the scenes in all of this.” He wondered if Luke was somehow affiliated with Lucifer. Maybe that was how he got all his billions. “What about Luke?”

Raphael blinked then cocked his head to the side as if hearing something in a distance. “Michael calls for me. I must take leave.”

“He doesn’t know you’re here?”

Raphael raised an eyebrow.

Holy shit! Raphael has actually gone rogue.

“Who’s covering for you?”

“Gabrielle.”

Lash snorted. “Why would she want to do that?”

Raphael’s lips curved into a thin smile. “Don’t underestimate Gabrielle’s goodness. She has done a lot for me, as well as you, over the years. She cares deeply.”

“For you, maybe,” Lash muttered.

Raphael squirmed, and Lash wondered just how close to home he’d hit. “I must take leave, and so should you. Take Naomi to the safe house as soon as you can.”

***

“That’ll be $150.38,” the cashier droned.

Naomi glanced down at her wallet and back up at the cashier. “One-fifty as in one
hundred
and fifty?”

The cashier nodded. “Do you want this in paper or plastic?”

“I brought my own bags.” Naomi placed her bags on the counter. She went down her grocery list again, trying to figure out what she bought that could have cost so much. Damn, Chuy and Lalo. She was going to have to start charging per meal, especially for Lalo. He was at the house for breakfast and dinner. At least Chuy helped to pay the grocery bill. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t really complain. She hadn’t been bringing in much money, and the money her parents had left her was starting to run out.

She had volunteered to go to the supermarket and buy the items Welita needed to prepare her Saturday morning tradition of caldo. Welita was famous around the block for her Mexican-style soup. After throwing on a white t-shirt and an old pair of jeans, Naomi walked out of the house to find Lalo waiting outside on the porch with a spoon and bowl in hand. He offered to help Welita, so she let him in the house.

She pushed the cart through the automatic doors and headed toward her car. It was still dark in the early morning, and the parking lot was almost empty. She hadn’t been able to sleep very well since the shooting. For some reason, she couldn’t stop thinking about Lash, and that was what upset her the most. Why would she be thinking about him when she should’ve been grieving for Deborah and Nathan? They were good people. But there was a part of her that was relieved, thinking that if Nathan had to die, maybe Deborah was better off being with him. She’d seen firsthand what losing the love of one’s life could do when she’d watched her father lose her mother. He’d been a shell of the man he’d been before her death. Even when he’d sobered up and got his life on track, he still hadn’t been the same. She doubted Deborah would have been either.

Naomi placed the cart to the side of the car. As she looked in her purse for the car keys, the cart rolled back and she reached out to catch it.

“I got it.”

Naomi turned to see Lash smiling at her. “Lash.”

“Miss me?” His cocky attitude was back. It was as if what had happened between them a few nights ago hadn’t happened. Maybe it was better that way. She didn’t want to fall for him, and she knew it would be so easy to do. She’d already lost too many people, and somewhere deep inside, she feared she’d lose him too. He would more than likely leave her life as quickly as he came into it.

“It’s only been a few days.” She threw the trunk open and turned to look at him, taking in the dark circles under his eyes. “You look tired. Don’t you sleep?”

“Don’t you?”

“As you can see here”—she made a sweeping gesture across the bags filled with food—“I’m grocery shopping for Welita. What’s your excuse?” She picked up a bag from the cart.

“With all the action the last few days, I forgot there was nothing left to eat in my sorry excuse for a kitchen.” Lash picked up a couple of bags and placed them in the trunk. “Contrary to popular belief, Pop Tarts does not a breakfast make.”

Against her better judgment, Naomi considered inviting him over for breakfast, when she heard a familiar roaring sound. Her face paled.

“Naomi, what is it?” Lash diverted his attention to sounds in the vicinity, and he heard the familiar sound too.

A screech of tires tore through the parking lot. Gunfire popped several times and, before Naomi could register what was happening, Lash snatched the car keys from her hand and pushed her into the trunk. From the corner of her eye, she saw him lurch back and groan before he slammed it shut.

“Lash!”

The car engine sprang to life, and she rolled around the tiny compartment, banging her knees and elbows as the car swerved. She prayed it was Lash driving and not the shooter. If it wasn’t Lash, then that meant he was dead, and the thought was unbearable.

She banged on the trunk lid. “Lash. Lash! Is that you?”

She heard more gunshots and, as their speed suddenly increased, she was tossed against the back of the trunk.
He’s alive.

Frantically, she pulled a cell phone from her jean pocket. The car jolted and she dropped it as she banged her head against the wall of the trunk. Then there was silence, and the car drove smoothly. A few minutes later, the car finally rolled to a stop.

The trunk lid flew open.

“Are you alright?” Lash peered into the car.

Naomi rubbed her head. It felt tender. “Yeah, I think so.” She took Lash’s hand and climbed out of the trunk. “Thank God Chuy fixed up the car last week.”

They were in the outskirts of the city at an empty rest stop. Insects swarmed around a street lamp, the only light source in the parking area. The grounds were littered with empty beer bottles and soda cans.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. I wasn’t exactly paying attention.”

“Well, don’t get snippy with me. I was—”

She paled as she watched Lash wince and clutch his side. He slumped slowly to the ground—a red stain blossoming on his shirt.

With a cup of espresso in hand, Jane looked out the bay window as rays of orange peeked out of the horizon, meeting the dark sky of the early dawn. It was much too early to be up, but the nightmares had kept her tossing despite the luxurious bed in her hotel suite. It was the same nightmare she’d had ever since the plane crash: the trembling of the plane, the screams, the heat, the smoke, the feeling of suffocation. As time passed, she had the dreams less often. Strange that, over the last few weeks, the dreams had increased in frequency.

“What are you doing up this early? Our flight to Washington doesn’t leave for another few hours.”

Jane turned in her chair. “Since I couldn’t sleep, I thought I might as well get up and start my day early.” She eyed Luke as he placed a couple of files on the desk and crossed the room to the kitchenette. “In all the years I’ve known you, you hardly sleep either.”

“It’s the secret to my success,” he said as he lifted the silver carafe and poured coffee. “While most people are still sleeping, I’m busy with business.”

“Tell me your secret. How do you keep yourself looking so young?” Jane noted his twinkling eyes and unlined face. “If man can go to the moon, why can’t they invent something for the bags I get under my eyes after a sleepless night?”

Luke laughed. “Perhaps I should invest in cosmetics.”

Jane took a sip of her coffee. “In addition to the fracking your company is doing in the state? Sounds like a lot to manage.” Prescott Oil was the leader in hydraulic fracturing. The process of extracting petroleum by widening rock fractures using chemicals and liquids at a high pressure was a controversial method. Despite that, Luke had been able to expand his business across the state—with the help of her political connections, of course.

“It’s all too easy when you have an army of workers at your disposal.”

“Mr. Prescott?” Sal stood at the entrance to the room, his face stern.

“Speaking of which, come in, Sal.”

Jane watched as Sal headed straight to Luke and whispered something to him that made his smile fade. She was used to Sal and Luke discussing business in her presence, and Luke often asked her opinion on a number of things—especially on his latest venture, which involved taking Prescott Oil’s hydrofracturing business to an international level. Lately, however, the two men’s conversations had been conducted in hushed whispers or held in private.

“Get IT on it, and trace their movements. He can’t get far without his—” Luke glanced at Jane and cleared his throat. “Their travel methods are limited. Call our contacts at the Houston airport and keep me posted.”

She hoped nothing was wrong at the airport. It was bad enough that she had to fly out of the same place where her nightmares originated.

Sal nodded and left the room.

“Problems?” She placed her cup on the coffee table.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Luke put down his cup. “Well, my dear, it’s fortunate that you are up early after all. There’s been a change of plans. We’ll need to cancel the flight out of the Houston airport and drive to Dallas.”

“We’re flying out of Dallas?” Jane felt a surge of panic as the memory of a fireball sweeping down the plane aisle crossed her mind. Had Luke found out about someone trying to tamper with the plane they were planning to take? She’d been told to expect this now that she was an official candidate for the next presidential race. She took a deep breath, dabbed the sides of her lips, and placed the napkin next to the cup. “Is there something I should know?”

Luke held out his hands, and she placed her hands into his. “Everything is taken care of. You have nothing to worry about. I’ll never let anything happen to you.” He kissed her hands and smiled. “You are much too precious to me.”

Jane exhaled a long breath. She knew she could count on Luke. In all the years she’d known him, he had never let her down. Although she wanted to know more, she trusted him. “That’s all I need to know. I’ll go pack.”

***

“Lash.” Naomi knelt by his side. She should’ve been freaking out. It was the second time she’d been shot at this week. He needed her help, but she couldn’t give it to him if she gave in to the panic that lay just beneath the thin layer of calm. She placed her hands over his, trying to pry his fingers off his abdomen. “Let me see.” His hands wouldn’t budge.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not ‘nothing.’ I see the blood seeping out between your fingers.”

He turned to his side in an attempt to keep her hands away from him. “It’s just a scratch.”

“You’re as pale as a ghost, and there’s blood everywhere.” Naomi searched the back of the trunk and found her cell phone.

“Put that away.”

“Are you crazy? You’re hurt and need help. And what if the shooter comes back? We need to call the cops,” she said as she placed the phone to her ear.

Lash grimaced as he stood up. “I don’t need it. Don’t you listen?” He swatted the phone out of her hand, and it hit the cement.

“What is wrong with you?” She picked it up and tapped on the screen. “You broke my phone.”

“I told you. I’m fine.”

“No you’re not. Get in the car, and stop being so stubborn. I’m driving you to the hospital.”

“I’m stubborn?
I’m
stubborn?” He laughed and then moaned as he clutched his stomach tighter.

She almost lost it watching him suffer. What if he lost too much blood? He could be dying right in front of her. She took a deep breath. “Lash, I need you to get in the car.”

“The pain will go away soon.”

She marched to the passenger side of the car and opened the door. “Get in.”

Lash scowled. “I’ll prove to you that I’m fine. Do you have something I could use to wipe off this blood?”