Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (192 page)

If—when—the scandalous pictures came out, Elaine would own the high moral ground.
I may not have been the best wife but I never shacked up in a hotel with some young buck!

His chest constricted. His lungs refused to fully inflate. Jon stood up, yanked loose his necktie, and fumbled with the top button of his shirt until he gave up and ripped the collar open so he could breathe.

He went to the window and slid it open.

In came a cool gust.

He sucked in air and tried to will his chest to expand sufficiently to inhale. In the years of his ministry he’d faced protesters, death threats, media criticism, and general discouragement, but nothing robbed him of his joy like his negative feelings for Elaine. How could one woman cause so much pain, weaken him to such an extent?

// YOU WANT A DIVORCE...YOU NEED TO DO IT //

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard those words whispered in his head, but he’d always pushed them away. Today, as he stood staring out at the Pacific, the seagulls flying free in the clear skies, Jon said it out loud.

“I need to do this.”

His phone buzzed—a new text-message.

Maria: Are you all right?

He didn’t particularly feel like answering it, but if he didn’t she might keep texting him—something he wouldn’t mind in another reality but had to discourage in this one.

Jon: I’m okay. How about you?

Maria: I’m so sorry about last night.

Jon: My fault entirely. Will you forgive me?

Maria: LOL. You’re a good man. Hope things work out.

Jon: What are you going to do next?

Maria: I don’t know. But we should forget about last night...about

everything, okay?

Jon: Thanks for understanding.

Maria: NP. Take care, Jon.

He gazed at the screen for a long moment, took a deep breath, and with his thumb pressed the DELETE THREAD button on his display. For all intents and purposes, Maria Guzman never existed.

He was still holding the phone when it buzzed again. The image of Elaine’s smiling face—a picture taken from their honeymoon in Maui—was on the screen. For a moment he wanted desperately to answer, to apologize, say anything that might restore them to...to what? How many years had it been since they’d truly been happy together?

No.

He couldn’t deal with Elaine.

Not now.

Not with an important speech to prepare. Next week, he’d be at Cabrillo Stadium in San Diego before tens of thousands and millions more on television. He hit a button, and Elaine’s face vanished.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

YURI GOT PAST THE MEXICAN BORDER without a problem—his client obviously had friends in high enough places that he could pull important strings. Through tinted windows he watched all the cars at Tijuana’s border checkpoint, marveling at how he’d gone from a potential enemy combatant to a VIP of the CIA, his cover that of a covert operative in unaccounted-for cold war nuclear devices.

The driver let him off at the designated spot when the black Mercedes pulled up—the parking deck of the Wyndham Hotel near Mission Bay. Yuri pulled the suitcase out from the trunk and walked directly into the backseat of the Mercedes, where a lethally beautiful brunette (code-named Raven) sat puffing on a cigarette. She crossed her long black-leather-clad legs and eyed him with the warmth of a glacier. She looked exactly like she did in the photo the client had texted him, so he didn’t hesitate to enter even though she seemed beautiful but deadly, the kind who’d kiss you then stab you in the back.

Yuri shut the door, sat with the suitcase on his lap.

The car sped off.

“It’s about time, Yuri.”

His ears grew hot. She was so hot he couldn’t help but stare.

“So, you are Raven?”

“I am. Seems you ran into some trouble.” She flicked a lock of hair away from her face, re-crossed her legs, blew a cloud of smoke into Yuri’s face, and pointed to the suitcase. “Is the package intact?”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

PROVE IT. HAD SHE REALLY just asked him to do that? Oh, well—in for a penny…

“For one thing,” Hope said, “I don’t see any wings.”

“Oh, you mean these?” From behind Nick’s back, two large wings unfurled so quickly they sent a cool gust through her hair. Nearly stretching the entire length of his body, they glowed, the feathers white as snow.

Her lips remained open, as a silent “wow” floated out.

“Where’d those come from?”

“They’ve been there all along.”

“Why didn’t I see them?”

“I chose not to show them. Would’ve alarmed you, don’t you think? Now then...” He stood up and reached out to her. “If you need more proof...”

She took his hand and stood up, pulling her white robe tight with her free hand.

#

The entire hotel room just…detonated in a white brilliance that gently obliterated the walls, windows, floor, and ceiling, until all that remained was light. At first it hurt too much to keep her eyes open, so she squeezed them shut. But even that did little to mitigate the overwhelming brightness.

An intimate warmth enveloped her like a down comforter. Hope didn’t want to open her eyes, breathe, do anything that might disturb the moment. Beneath her feet she felt nothing, certainly not a floor. Something like a soft breeze whispered past her ear and ran through her hair like a caress. Then came the early morning scent of a meadow fresh with dew.

Eyes still shut, she took in the wonderful fragrance and smiled.

“Clive? Where are we?”

His deep-chested laughter seemed distant, a mile away across an ethereal valley. And yet he whispered into her ear.

“Who’s Clive?” His warm breath tickled the back of her neck. She felt his firm chest but couldn’t fully distinguish his form. It was as if he were there and yet not there.

“I’m sorry, it’s just...the way you look, the way you talk, you remind me of someone. What is your name, anyway?” Hope wanted desperately to open her eyes and behold what must be the most incredible sight she’d ever seen. But it might ruin this amazing moment the way tossing a stone into the still waters of a pond sends infinite ripples, irrevocably altering its placid state. No, she’d keep her eyes closed as long as she could stand it, take in every sensation.

Nick’s words came into her mind, not by hearing but by perception.

// DO YOU BELIEVE I’M AN ANGEL NOW? //

“No,” she said, smiling to show she was kidding. “What’s your name?”

A warm wind laced with something like the aroma of sweet olive blew past her. It was Clive, sighing.

He said, “I could tell you...”

“But then you’d have to kill me?”

He didn’t get it.

“Sorry, I’m kidding. Look, if you don’t want to tell me your name, that’s fine. I’ll just keep calling you Clive until—”

“Nikolai.”

All at once she felt him surrounding her, his shoulder beneath the back of her head. A jolt—like the one she felt when she was five years old and stuck a hairpin into the electric wall socket, only not painful—passed through her body, from her heart out to the tips of her fingers.

She opened her eyes but couldn’t see a thing.

Utter darkness.

But she could feel his arms holding her tight, the way she’d held Chloe when she woke up with the night terrors.

“Shhhh...” Again his hot breath spread across her neck. It comforted and electrified her at the same time. “Knowing and speaking the name of an angel with whom you’ve had this much contact should not be taken lightly.”

Part of her thought she might cry. But not from fear. She wasn’t sure why.

“I-I don’t understand. Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Say your name?”

Under the veil of the absolute gloom, his chest rose and fell. His arms tightened around her.

“Can’t believe I’m doing this again,” he said.

“May I?”

“Yes.” The vibrations from his chest resonated in her shoulders.

“Nikolai.”

All around her, the darkness melted away. She caught the briefest glimpse of what lay beneath them and buried her face in his chest.

“It’s all right,” he said, stroking her hair. “Don’t be afraid. Go ahead, look.”

Trembling, Hope lifted her face and peered over his arm.

Far below—she couldn’t tell how far—she saw a blue mass with green and brown patterns under a floating cottony patchwork. The earth and they were high above it. It was so beautiful she had to force herself to look and not hide her eyes.

“I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not.”

“Then I must be dead.”

“Definitely not.”

She looked up to him and thought he looked resigned. But to what?

“How can we be—how can
I
be here out in space and still alive?” she said.

“Because you’re not really in space. At least, not as you understand it.” He winced, suddenly. Touched the side of his head.

“What’s wrong?”

“Not sure. It takes a bit of effort to project a construct around you so you can experience this.”

“A what?”

“A construct.”

“I don’t understand any of this, Nikolai.” She wrapped her arms around him even tighter and gazed down at the planet. Though she didn’t sense herself falling hundreds of miles to the surface, everything within her felt that if she were to let go, that was exactly what would happen.

“May I ask a small favor?” he said.

“I’m not in a position to object.”

“Would you call me Nick? Nikolai is so...I don’t know nineteenth-century.”

“Nineteenth—okay, whatever you say.”

Any fear had given way to an odd euphoria. She was staring down at the earth! Not in an astronaut’s space suit but just as she was, wearing nothing but her hotel robe, the belt of which had floated up.

“How’s this possible?” she said.

“Welcome to my realm.” Nick was gazing down at the giant blue marble that was Hope’s home. “I don’t mean that as in
my
realm where I’m the owner or master, but the realm in which I’m indigenous.”

“So, you’re an alien?”

He shook his head and grinned. “I’ve brought you to the spiritual realm.”

“Not to sound skeptical, but you see that big globe down there, with the continents—North America, Africa, and all? That looks pretty physical to me.”

“Of course. The physical and spiritual realms aren’t mutually exclusive. They coexist, layered and woven together like a basket’s distinct ribbons. But here’s the part most humans don’t realize.
Your
realm, the physical, is merely a likeness, a dim reflection of reality—which is, of course, the spiritual realm.”

She thought of
The Chronicles of Narnia
, which her father used to read to her when she was a child.

“Like the Shadowlands.”

“Precisely.”

Just then, something massive overshadowed the moon’s reflected light. Hope turned around just in time to see the large pair of solar panels and a communications dish mounted to the center of a huge NASA-emblazoned satellite—coming straight at them.

“Nick!” She threw herself into his arms again.

“It’s okay, just relax.”

She braced for the impending impact.

“Do something!” she yelled.

“Why?”

She pounded his chest. “Hello? We’re going to die!”

“Get a grip, will you? Now watch. Wait for it...”

Hope turned around and looked on in horror as it careened straight at them.

“We’re going to die, we’re going to—Oh..My—!”

She was about to shut her eyes, but it was too late. She saw the whole thing happen, even as the satellite reached them.

She felt nothing.

In the course of a second—maybe less—the entire satellite passed through them. Or rather, they passed through
it
. Everything happened so fast Hope could barely make out what she saw inside the spacecraft the moment before it continued past them and cruised into the distance.