The Burning City (8 page)

“It won’t be that long, Mom.” June touched the keyboard, as if she could reach through it. “Just a little while longer. I promise we’re all going to be together soon. I’m coming home. Jason’s coming home.”

Sam drew back.

“Oh, this is hateful.” Her mother slapped her forehead. “But tonight might be the first time since January I’ve had a full night’s sleep.”

“Me too,” June said softly.

“Do you have a phone? Can I call you?”

June went to the bathroom and retrieved her phone from her bag. Her hands were still shaking, the rest of her numb. She returned to the bed, turned the phone on, and found the number.

“The idea you’re just a phone call away now.” Her mother’s eyes welled up again. “Oh, God, please don’t let this be a dream.”

June wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Diego told me you’ve been paying rent on the shop. Mom, you don’t have the money to do that. Why?”

Her mother had her own cell phone and punched June’s number in. “I couldn’t let you lose it. Letting it go would be like—like saying you were never coming home.”

June shook her head and grabbed up the tissues again.

“I got a loan. And Diego and the other guys were helping pay for it too. They’ve still been working. You wouldn’t believe all the reporters and looky-loos who come around that place. Always someone nosing around.” She placed the phone to her ear.

“I would. It’s a circus here too.” June’s phone trilled in her lap. She saved her mother’s number.

“It’s been worse lately,” her mother said. “Now that everyone knows the truth. Thank you, Mr. Haain, for all you’ve done for my children. I’m sorry you were persecuted.”

“Sam,” Sam said. “And we’ve all helped each other, haven’t we June?”

June nodded.

“And you’re running for mayor, Sam?” Her mother’s penchant for gossip was still intact. “How do you think that’ll go? The whole city must be rooting for you.”

June almost laughed. Chicago, root for a paranormal person?

“I’m a politician by trade,” Sam said. “It’s in my blood. I’m already entrenched in the politics of this city. I have no doubt I’ll be welcomed back into that circle with open arms.”

“If I were there I’d vote for you, based on the fact you saved my children alone. You’re a good man, Sam.”

“Mom,” June said, “just stay put for right now, okay? Just until the FBI clears things. This is…a complicated situation.”

Her mother sighed. “Knowing you’re all right is enough for now.” She peered closer at the screen. “But God, you’re so thin. Was it hard to get food?”

“We had plenty of food. Like I said, my allergies are giving me a lot of trouble.” She fidgeted with her phone. “I think they’re getting worse. Maybe the stress.”

“When you come home, I’m taking you back to that allergist. And to a nutritionist.”

“There’s a doctor here. She’s got me on vitamins right now. I feel a little better.” She did, sort of.

“Drink lots of water and get some protein in you. No salt. It’s bad for your heart.”

She couldn’t have imagined she’d treasure the day her mother would be able to nag her again. “I will, Mom.”

“Have Jason get in touch with me as soon as he’s allowed. I can’t wait to hear his voice too.”

Though June wanted to stay on with her all night, Sam had limited data on the hotspot. They said good night and June promised to call first thing tomorrow.

After Sam closed the laptop lid, she slumped against him and cried on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she choked out. “I wasn’t ready for that, but I needed it.”

He stroked her hair. Dipity found them, thumping onto the bed next to June’s leg. June reached out and petted her, sniffing.

“I thought you deserved more than one nice thing today,” Sam said. “You’re on your way to having a normal life again.”

She wiped at her face. “I’ll never be normal.”

Sam reached out and petted Dipity as well. “Well, I guess it’s not so bad being different.”

She had to rescue Jason and Diego before her mother found out the truth. Lying to her, after all she’d been through, made June’s stomach hurt worse than all the gluten in the universe.

June awoke feeling sick, but that was nothing new. Usually, the queasiness subsided if she could get some food and water in her and keep it down. Every morning, she sank deeper into dread. How long until the debilitating pain? How long until she couldn’t eat at all? How long until she began to rot from the inside out?

She tried to shake these thoughts as she stood over the bathroom sink, splashing water on her face and trying not to throw up the little bit of water she’d drunk.

Stepping back, she nearly tripped over her duffel bag on the floor. She kicked it in frustration. Things fell out. She sighed.

Cramming the items back in, she scowled at her box of tampons. She was due for that too. Soon she’d have cramps on top of everything else. Her morbid line of thinking helped her find the silver lining, though—if she dropped below a certain percentage of body fat, she wouldn’t have a period at all, like those female athletes.

“Take that,” she muttered. “Point for me, Mother Nature.”

Too bad she was playing a losing game.

By noon, the house was full of people: cleaners, assistants, Sam’s friends, and members of his group. June retreated to the back patio, sunglasses on, and sat in a lounge chair, nibbling on an apple. Gardeners were crawling all over the grounds, trimming, mowing, digging.

She’d already had a long phone conversation with her mother, carefully explaining the events of the past six months while omitting certain details. She hadn’t yet told her she and Sam were together, either.

Sam eventually found her. “There you are. Hiding?”

“I’m working on my tan.” She was well under the shade of the awning.

“You should get naked for that.” He motioned in the house. “Come with me. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

“I’m not a people person.”

“I know, but I think you’ll find this person interesting.”

She slipped her glasses down her nose. “Is it another cute assistant?”

“No. Remember, I said I have a plan to find Occam and Robbie?”

Now he had her attention. She got up and followed him inside.

Sam led her through the house, past people vacuuming and scrubbing and dusting. He led her out onto the front porch, which was empty save for one person.

A young man leaned against the porch railing. He had a heart-shaped face and collar length brown curls. As they walked over to him, something strange seemed to happen to his eyes, as though they caught the light and reflected it like a cat’s eyes. Maybe June had imagined it.

“This is Anthony,” Sam said. “He’s been a member of my group for several years, but I hadn’t met him until today. Anthony, this is my girlfriend, June. She’s a Siren.”

“June Coffin.” Recognition lit up Anthony’s features. “It’s nice to meet you.” His voice seemed strangely familiar and unaccountably unnerving.

“Anthony has been so kind as to offer me his services,” Sam said. “He doesn’t do that very often.”

June eyed Anthony. “And what are those?”

“Anthony is a precognitive. Institute research claims he doesn’t exist, by the way.”

June blinked a few times. “A pre….what?”

“Precognitive,” Anthony said. “In the very simplest colloquial phraseology, I can see the future.”

The back of her neck prickled. Why did he sound so familiar?

“The Institute didn’t believe such an ability could exist,” Sam said. “But Anthony, I’m sure, can tell you otherwise. He’s going to help us find the monsters we’re looking for.”

June perked. “Oh, so like—you know where they’re gonna be at a certain time?”

Anthony shook his head. “It’s not quite like that.”

“Let’s get something to drink,” Sam said. “We can all sit down, and you can fill June in. Come inside.”

They all went in and to the kitchen. Something else about Anthony made her wary, something about his overall demeanor and the way he carried himself. Alarm bells rang in her head.

Sam made himself and Anthony coffee, and June had water. They all sat down in the dining room at the table, which was freshly cleaned. The scent of oil soap hung in the air.

June sat across from Anthony, Sam at the head of the table between them.

Anthony smiled faintly. “Are you ready to have your mind blown, June Coffin?”

“What’s left of it.” June stared at him.

“Do you know the cosmological theory of parallel universes?”

She propped her elbow on the table and rubbed her forehead. “Is it vital that I do?”

“What cosmic theorists speculate, I know as fact, but in such a way they can’t imagine, and it would be impossible for me to clearly describe it to them. All you need to know is that every possible outcome of every second—everything you think, do, and say—is played out in an infinite number of universes. Everything that can happen does happen. I shift among the universes, so to speak, so I see all possible outcomes.”

June dropped her hand away from her face. “You shift among universes?”

“Well, my mind does. And that’s a very crude way to describe it. It’s much more complex.”

June narrowed her eyes. “Saying, ‘if you make a decision, anything can happen’ isn’t exactly telling the future.”

Sam spoke up. “You’ll have to excuse June, Anthony. She’s a skeptic.” He was nearly bouncing in his chair, seeming excited about whatever this power was that Anthony had.

Anthony smiled wider. “‘Parallel’ is a misnomer. What I experience is more like a gel flowing in all directions. Everyone shifts. I’m just cognitive of it. The reason I can know a certain future is because people are sort of like”—he looked upward thoughtfully—“pin balls.” He looked back at her. “You get a swat with the paddles when you’re born, and there’s all sorts of chutes and holes and things for you to bump into. And every time you make a decision—when you drop back down to the paddles—you get thwacked in a certain direction. That’s when I see where you’re going in this universe, after that smack. People’s wills keep them going in the direction they’re sent. It would take a pretty hard shake of the machine to change it. But I can—usually—only see one smack at a time. A series of decisions becomes astoundingly convoluted.”

Sam rubbed his chin. “And you have to be face-to-face with a person to know their future, right?”

“Yes, technically. I can also see a bit of the future of people that person has recently come in contact with. It’s like a residue that gets caught in their head.”

“You can do it at will?” June was barely following this.

“For me, it’s as perennial as breathing. Just like I don’t have to think about breathing, I don’t have to think about my power.” He paused. “I can hold my breath or focus on my breathing, though. So in the same sense, yes, I can control my power.”

“How does it not drive you mad?” June shook her head.

“How does not being able to do it not drive you mad? I don’t know what it’s like to be normal.” Anthony’s eyes flashed. She definitely didn’t imagine it this time.

June frowned. “What’s going on with your eyes?”

“It happens when my ability happens—makes life a little awkward, especially since it happens reflexively more often when I’m tense or emotional. I’m seeing the light spectrum. You’re seeing me shift.”

“So why doesn’t your whole body do it?”

“Our eyes are connected to our brains, and to our powers.”

She knew that all too well from her own vibrant green, intense, freaky eyes.

“Okay…” June said. “So how is this going to help us find Robbie and Occam? You said you have to be in contact with a person to see their future. So that means you have to find them, like we do.”

Anthony held up a finger. “Or someone who’s recently been in contact with them, as I said.”

June shook her head. “I’m sure Robbie is not going to be in contact with anybody we know.”

Anthony’s eyes flashed again and he looked away. “I know who Robbie’s in contact with.”

Sam drew himself up in his chair and cleared his throat. “June, Anthony is…Robbie’s brother.”

June stiffened. Her instincts weren’t off. She had recognized something familiar in him.

“Are you kidding me?” She nearly shouted.

Anthony looked back at her. “I’m not my brother’s keeper.”

“Anthony is one of three known precognitives in the entire world,” Sam said. “The Beecher bloodline is incredibly strong with paranormal powers.”

“How can you let this man sit at your table?” June clenched her hands into fists. “After what his bloodline did to you and your friends?”

“Robbie is not my blood,” Anthony said. “I’ll gladly deliver him into Sam’s hands.”

“He’s our only chance of finding Robbie,” Sam said. “Robbie is not going to walk right up to us. If he does, we’ve got much bigger problems.”

“Robbie has had people watching me,” Anthony said, “ever since he made his grab for power back in January at the press conference. He’s always tried to sell me on his dogma, but I was never keen on it. I’m sure he was hoping I’d be impressed.”

June remained guarded. “He was hoping a lot of people would be impressed, including the vampires.”

Anthony crinkled his forehead. “I’m not surprised he’s trying to impress the vampires. Robbie hasn’t been well for a long time.”

June sat forward. “Could you imagine the monster he’ll be if he gets a vampire to turn him? A man as powerful as he is who can’t be affected by anything?”

Anthony sat forward too. “We’ve never seen eye-to-eye. I’m sure he’s waiting to see what I do, see if I’ll join him or oppose him. He can’t read my mind. I at least have that advantage. But I know his mind well enough, and I don’t like it.”

“So you always knew what he was up to?” June glared at him. “Before he orchestrated a massacre?” She was not going to trust Anthony, not so easily. She didn’t care if he claimed to hate his brother. She’d been told too many lies already.

“I didn’t know the extent of his intentions. He’s always been a bit of a fanatic. He liked to go off on these long rants about the Institute and about the Paranormal Alliance and how he’d run it differently—all the things he didn’t like about Sam.”