Worth Dying for (A Dying for a Living Novel Book 5) (4 page)

Jesse

N
othing.

“What the hell?” I murmur to the quiet room. “Come on, Gabriel! Get out here!”

A strange sensation washes over me, like I’m being watched. The hair on the back of my neck pricks up and muscles in my abdomen clench. I whirl around half-expecting Caldwell to be standing there, ready to pluck my eyes out of my head.

“Gabriel.” I sigh his name in relief. I didn’t realize how much I missed him until now, seeing him standing in the soft lamplight of the hotel room. And I forgot how damn
pretty
he is.

He hasn’t changed at all. His cat-like green eyes, unnaturally brilliant, dim to a more human shade. Black wings stretch wide on either side of him, the tips of his feathers brush against an impressionistic painting of peonies hanging from the wall, making a scratching sound.

“You’ve grown accustomed to the power you possess. You are more—” his voice trails off as he searches my face, like he’s going to find the word he wants written on my forehead or something. “—stable than when I left you last.”

“Yeah, I have it together.” Kind of. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

I climb off the couch and go around the black lacquer coffee table with its marble top. I stop short of him, unsure what I intend to do now that I’m so close.

“I’ve heard you in my head, whispering all creepy and shit. You make me feel like I need an exorcism. Doesn’t the connection work both ways?”

“No,” he says. “When you are with each other, there is interference. The connection is weak.”

“Um-okay.” I shrug. “That means nothing to me.”

Gabriel often tries to explain our connection, our special bond or the reason he is here trying to usher me through this secret mission to save the world. I’ve yet to understand.

“You must kill them, Jesse. Rachel and Maisie.”

“No fucking way!” I shove his chest. I’m knocked back rather than him. It’s more like I pushed a wall than a man. “I don’t know if you’re really an angel, or if you’re an alien like Rachel believes, or just some massive acid trip we’re all having, but whatever the hell you are, you’re not going to command me to kill my friends. Or my
sister
. It’s bad enough you’ve set me up to murder my father. Okay, so he totally deserves it, but my
friends
?
No
.”

“There can only be one partis. The girl understands that.” He reaches a pale hand out of his pocket and stretches those fingers toward my face. I don’t know if he intends to brush my bangs out of my eyes or what, but I slap his hand away.

“I don’t care if there can only be one partis. You can’t force me to murder my friends.”

“If you do not absorb the powers and become the apex, the Earth will perish. Is that what you want?”

I stamp my foot. “Kill my friends or kill my friends
and
everyone? Who says that?”

“This is your choice. I cannot make it for you.”

“Why can’t life just be totally beyond my control like it is for everyone else?” I pace away from him. Whose idea was it to talk to Gabriel? “Okay, you know what? I thought I was missing your wise counsel, but nope. I’m not. You can go away now.”

Gabriel doesn’t budge. Though I think I see his wings twitch in irritation. “Would you have Caldwell be the apex? He will kill Rachel, Maisie, Georgia, and you.”

“Is there a box that says ‘we all live happily ever after’? I’ll check that one.”

He blinks lazily like a mildly irritated cat.

I pull at my face and flop back on the couch. “Listen, don’t you have any good news? Anything helpful? I was hoping you would approve our plan or give me tips or tell me that I’m going to win. You know, something useful.”

“You will win,” he says with an air of unshaken confidence.

I smile. “That’s better. Thank you.”

“I chose you—”

“Yeah, that’s your mistake, not mine.”

“—I have never been wrong before.”

“There’s always a first. Tell me that we are all going to be okay. I’m warming up to the idea that I will have to sacrifice myself for everyone. I might be okay with that, in a few more weeks or decades. But I want Maisie, and Rachel, and Ally to survive. Can’t I have that? Is there a way for Maisie and Rachel to give me their powers without being hurt?”

A look that could be mistaken for sympathy crosses Gabriel’s face. “That will not be possible.”

“You’re the least helpful angel ever.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “Can you even tell me what’s Caldwell doing now?”

“Searching for you.”

My tongue suddenly feels super heavy. “Is he close?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. Just tell it like it is.”

“He must wait for an opening.” He closes his wings and steps toward me. “I’ve hidden you from his sight. In a way that Gideon cannot hide you.”

“Thanks?” I’m not sure what else to say.

“Each angel advocates for their own apex.” He pulls me into his arms. “I want you, Jesse.”

“I’m sure this is being lost in translation, but I’m pretty sure you mean I want you
to win
.”

His tie and eyes deepen to a midnight blue and I make the mistake of looking into them. Instantly, it’s as if I’m falling. My stomach drops, my body leaning forward, off balance. I wrench myself from his arms.

“Okay, enough of that.” I cross the room and snatch the room service menu off the table. “If you don’t have anything nice to say, you can go now.”

“If you will not kill them, distance yourself. I cannot help you when the three of you are together.”

He’s right. And I hate it when people who aren’t me are right. He’s saved our ass numerous times when Caldwell was trying to get the drop on us, and going into our showdown with a blind eye makes me nervous. I want him with us when we confront Caldwell, but I also want Maisie and Rachel close.

Gabriel preys on my anxiety. “There may come a time when you will need me.”

He disappears.

“Oh come on, don’t be a drama queen! Get back here!”

He doesn’t come back. I strain to hear his whispers in my head, but the only thing I hear are the pounding footsteps in the hall, charging my way. More than one pair.

And a strange jingle sound.

My power rolls up from my navel, encircling my spine and flowing down my arms as my palms open. If someone bad bursts through that door, I’m going to firebomb their asses.

“Open up!” Maisie shouts. “Jess, open up!”

“Shit.” I suppress my firepower and rush to the door. I yank it open and Maisie rushes in, crushing the pug to her chest. Ally is right on her heels, shoving the door closed behind them.

She’s limping. Winston is panting. And Maisie fights to control her breath.

“What the hell happened?”

“Grab everything,” Ally says, chest heaving. “No, not everything. Whatever is important.”

Maisie drops Winston on the couch and flies into her room.

“Why?” I search Ally’s face, trying to get a sense of how much trouble we’re in.

“There’s a SWAT van positioning themselves outside the hotel.”

“Shit. What are the chances there’s a drug lord holed up in this hotel and they’re coming after that guy and not us?”

Ally’s nostrils flare.

“Okay, dumb question. Did you see Caldwell?” I ask as Maisie comes back into the living room, her backpack stuffed to the brim. She starts gathering up Winston’s things without being asked, shoving them into a canvas sack labeled Dmitri’s Whole Foods, in navy blue letters.

“No.” Ally fingers her ankle with a grimacing face.

“Can you go through Rachel and Gideon’s room and gather up their stuff? We don’t want to leave anything important.”

Maisie goes into the room obediently.

“How bad?” I ask her, bending down to look at her ankle.

“My ankle is okay. It’s really sore. I sort of whirled around, thinking they’d seen my face, and slipped off the curb. It was stupid.”

“Okay, let’s get together what we can carry. I’ll burn the rest. Then we’re gone.”

Maisie came and dumped a leather satchel on the floor. “This is the only thing that looks important. The rest is just clothes and stuff.”

“Leave them. We can’t carry Rachel’s wardrobe across the city. In fact, Maze, go through your pack again and dump what you don’t absolutely need, okay?”

“I’ll get our stuff together,” Ally says.

“I’ll do it.” I run to the kitchenette and throw some ice in a plastic shopping bag. Then I unzip one of the fancy pillow cases and pull out the stuffing, using the pillowcase as a cover for the makeshift ice pack. I kiss her. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You’ll be okay.”

She reaches up and touches my cheek. “Oh Jess, I’m not worried about me. Only one thing in this world scares me.”

I find the aspirin bottle on the table, twist off the cap and plop two aspirin into Ally’s hand and toss the bottle to Maisie. She catches it and tucks it into the front pocket of her bright yellow bag.

“What’s the one thing that scares you?” I ask, hefting the bags onto my shoulders, giving the room one last look before abandoning it.

She takes my hand. “Losing you.”

Jesse

W
e are packed and ready but there’s still no sign of Rachel and Gideon. “We better go.”

Ally bites her lip, casting a last glance around the hotel room. “Maisie?”

Maisie jingles Winston’s leash and then shifts the pack on her back. “Ready.”

It’s not difficult to leave given how frigid the room has grown over the last few hours. Honestly, I’m surprised that someone hasn’t come to ask about the broken window yet. Lucky us.

I slide open the door to the room and peer out into the hallway. Nada. To the left, the red carpet stretches endlessly away from us. The vintage fan-shaped lamps mounted about ten feet apart cast shadows on the cream walls.

“Meet me in the stairwell,” I tell Ally. “I’m going to clean up.”

I watch the girls slink down the hall and through the door at the end. I don’t duck back inside until Ally’s face appears in the little window, watching.

I slip back into the room, and before the door even closes all the way behind me, I ignite. Flames lick up the carpet, latch onto the chaise, and incinerate the furniture. I go into Maisie’s room next, still burning and watch the flames spread over the floor and furnishings as quickly as if I’d doused this place in gasoline first. I do Rachel and Gideon’s room next, and it has the most stuff left behind. As Rachel’s clothes begin to curl and blacken I can imagine how furious she’d be if she saw this.

Then I step into our room. It is the smallest of the three rooms, but I didn’t mind. Neither Ally nor I have much stuff and though the bed is only a full, it left us with more than enough room to snuggle and—oh come on, Jesse. Stop daydreaming and get the hell out of here!

As I step out into the hallway, the elevator dings. I run toward the stairwell, shoving open the door and hear Winston’s collar jingle, probably as he lurches back from the swinging door. I swear and stoop to pinch his tags together, silencing them. I give him a few reassuring pats on the head before I hand Winston over to Maisie, jabbing a finger at the tags. She gets it. Her fingers pinch the tags as she shifts the pug in her arms. Then I ease the hallway door back in place to hide my tracks. I wave for them to go on without me.

Ally’s brow furrows. She mouths, “What about you?”

I hold up a finger, asking her to give me a minute. Positioning myself behind the door leading toward the hallway, I peer through the little window. The ice machine makes a
crack
-dump sound and I half jump out of my skin.

I’m not leaving until I see who got off the elevator. Maybe it’s another hotel guest returning to their room. Fine, but what if it’s Rachel and Gideon? I can’t let them walk into a burning room.

A swarm of men in black explode around the corner like a small army of locusts, their bodies fast, guns up as they pool outside the room we just escaped.

I don’t wait for them to bust down the door to the suite before I’m running. I take the stairs two at a time, catching up to Ally and Maisie in no time. As soon as they see me running, they move faster. Maisie stumbles a lot with Winston in her arms, and Ally manages by keeping one hand on the wall to steady herself as she rushes from landing to landing as quickly as her ankle will allow.

The red EXIT sign hangs over the door and Maisie bursts through before I can stop her.

“Wait!” Ally and I shout in unison.

We run after her, stepping out into full blown chaos.

A compressed alley behind the hotel connects two major streets. I’ve only been through the alley once before. Gideon insisted we do a dry run of our escape route before we made this hotel our home base. The alley had seemed creepy and cramped then, reeking of garbage and piss. Now it was even worse.

Both ends of the alley are blocked by a clot of cars and vans. Dispersed in front of the cars are men with guns.

“Fuck!” I throw my shield up around Ally without thinking. Maisie shrieks and I realize my timing was shit. I drop the shield, let Ally grab ahold of Maisie and then erect it again so at least the three of them are safe inside the barrier even if I can’t shield myself too.

True, my shield has gotten bigger in the last month or so. Gabriel once told me, when we were still chatting on a regular basis, that it was because I’d acquired a second partis power, in addition to the firebomb and shield stuff.

“Jessica Sullivan, drop your weapons and give us the girl.”

I hold up my hands. “What weapons, idiot?”

Men from the other end of the alley rush toward Maisie and Ally. Two men collide with the shield and bounce off as if they’d run right into a brick wall. They tumble to the pavement holding themselves and swearing. They can’t see the shield apparently.

My flames ignite. Blue fire courses up my limbs and torso, twisting in an arc. It pulses erratically. Both rows of officers, agents, whatever the hell they call themselves, leap back, giving us room.

“Drop your weapons—” someone says over the loudspeaker again.

“You want to see a weapon?” I purr as my blast powers up. It feels so good. Drunken. Giddy. I’m trying not to twirl or fall into a fit of laughter.

“Don’t,” Ally begs. “There are too many people.”

“You’re safe.” I remind her.

“I’m not worried about us,” she begs. “They can see you.”

She thrusts a hand up toward the sky as a helicopter blots out the clouds. An aerial news crew flying at an angle above two tall buildings cuts left and out of my view. I can hear the whirling blades long after it slips from sight, the
whomp-whomp-whomp-whomp
hurting my ears.

Shit.

Caldwell must know where we are now. Perfect. No scarf. No tech device. It’s only my face on prime time television.

I open and close my fist, delighting in the intoxicating warmth of the electricity rippling over me.
Please give me a reason,
I beg them.
Make one little move.

“No,” Ally says again. “No!”

If I drop my guard they’ll take Maisie, hurt Ally, and kill me. No way.

And hesitating will cost me. The girls and Winston are safe in the shield, but I’m vulnerable. If any of them get the bright idea to put a bullet in my head, it’s over. I’m hoping the erratic fire is making it hard to see me clearly, a sort of armor in its own right. But if I cut the flame entirely, they’ll see me perfectly. Or they could rush forward and try to take me by force. Then what will happen?

I meet Ally’s desperate wide eyes. “I’m sorry.”

The fire around me brightens, growing, expanding and whipping wildly. The men fall back, ducking behind cars and vans, shielding their bodies while their eyes remain trained on me.

I blast one side of the alley, hopefully pushing the men and the vehicles back enough that we can squeeze through with minimal casualties. The fire flares forward and shots ring out. A solid hit like a punch in the gut strikes me an inch below my left breast. The force of the bullet knocks me back and I cry out.

My flames sputter out.

“Gee-
zus
.” I lift my shirt to inspect the bullet wound. The men around me stand breathless, waiting.

Before the pain even stops radiating through my guts, the wound begins to itch. Then an icy feeling slides over my skin as the wound puckers and spits a bullet out onto the pavement. The blood that spilled down my stomach, staining the top of my jeans a dark burgundy, stops flowing and the flesh stitches itself together in front of my eyes.

“Fuck,” someone says, one of the men in the first row of defense. His jaw unhinges and the barrel of his gun dips. Three more shots ring out, catching my chest and shoulder, each bullet a little higher than the last. If they shoot me in the head—

I wouldn’t let them finish you off. That pleasure will be all mine.

My head snaps up at the sound of that serpentine voice, cruel and perfectly articulate despite the commotion on all sides. Only one person can pull off that trick.

Caldwell stands to the right. Positioned between the men and the hotel building. Of course he’s issuing orders from the sidelines. With a gift like his, why dirty his own hands?

You’ve been sloppy, Jesse. You won’t lose me again.

I fire bomb the alley.

The pain of being shot
four
freaking times paired with Caldwell’s taunts amplifies my anger. The blue flame pulses out from me in all directions. The first row of cars lifts off the ground, blown back like umbrellas caught in the wind. I see a lot of feet, the bottom of rubber shoes floating away. The crunch of metal and the shriek of brakes resounds from the adjacent street. Cars slam into one another as those blocking the alley collide with those passing through a stoplight. No sooner than the brakes stop squealing do the shouts begin.

So ungrateful. Is that the thanks I get after saving your precious little life?

Pretty sure they shot me on your command
, I reply, using the same mind speak that Caldwell prefers.

Yes, but not in the head.

“Caldwell,” I shout. I don’t think Maisie and Ally can hear me. I can barely speak, my voice breathless against the pain crippling me.

My heart sputters and my vision blackens, splotchy at the edges. I taste salt on my lips and copper, probably blood.

Hands yank me up to my full height, shoving me against the wall.

“Jess, no. Come on. Don’t pass out.” It’s Ally pleading with me. “Stay awake, baby. We can’t carry you.”

Oh no. If she can touch me then I dropped the shield. No, no, no. I try to erect it again. Does it work? I can’t tell. My vision is spotting.

“Caldwell,” I say again. Or at least I think I do. Ally gives no indication that she’s heard me.

“It’s her heart,” Maisie says, and I feel trembling fingers gingerly poking at my chest. “She got shot in the heart. She’s dying.”

The world comes into focus and a black van bursts through the flaming wreckage of my firebomb. The doors fly open and two or three people in tactical gear, guns held across their chests step out.

No, no.
I think, trying to summon my strength and focus.
Ally—look—look behind you.

Surely she can see the van. She’s smart enough to run.
Leave me. Take Maisie and go
. I hope I’m saying all of this aloud, but I fear my voice is being drowned out by the blaring sirens and thick smoke filling my nose and burning my eyes.

Rough hands grab me and shove me into the van, my cheek scratching against the rough carpet of the floorboard.

That’s the last thing I feel before my heart fails me.