“Will you tell me about what you see in these dreams? I think it’s pretty obvious now that it’s how you’re connected to all the disasters, right?”
William took a long drink and started with the eyes in the storms. What he saw in the fires, the violence, the deaths in hospitals, finally ending by seeing Lily’s eyes in the stone.
“And to wrap it up with a bow, there are snakes. Everywhere.”
“Jesus. No wonder you wake up freaking out. But what you can do with Lily… that’s hope, right? She says she saw you in her dreams. Maybe that means the others out there… can see you too. That’s why you got online, isn’t it? You wanted to see where the storm is coming. Where the fires are. Because if you can stop Lily…”
“I don’t even know how I do it. And it’s everywhere now. Global. I dream of it, everywhere. It’s like a virus. Carriers in each part of the world. I can see it, but I can’t communicate with them. And I’m the cause.”
“And maybe the cure.” Quincy raised a finger. “I know Steven thinks there’s one causing the hurricanes that keep hitting New Orleans. Speaking of hurricanes: those drinks are responsible for my lack of memory of the eight Mardi Gras I’ve been to.”
“It’s a slow churning storm, but it’s coming. I’ve seen it. It’s insane to think about heading there, but I don’t know what else to do. If for some reason I can find the person doing it…”
William turned to him. “But you’ve got to leave, Quincy. You shouldn’t be here. Lily has to stay with me, and Steven refuses to leave.”
“Well yeah, he’s your grandfather. Sorry about that slip of the tongue, by the way. I just assumed you figured it out. Plus it’s practically mentioned in every tabloid written about your grandmother.”
“It’s doesn’t matter now. You need to walk away. I can’t risk any more innocent people dying.”
“I’m hardly innocent. While I don’t enjoy being shot at or blown up, how could I go back? ‘Hey Phil, will you book me that trip to the Barbados with those twins, who clearly are into me for my body and not my millions?’”
William smiled, and Quincy slapped his knee, leaving a wad of cash. “You and I could be pals, you know. I know a fellow troublemaker when I see one. I’ve read about your exploits in Nashville. Pissing on the hood of the paparazzo’s car was particularly impressive.”
“Just particularly stupid,” William said, holding up the cash. “What’s this about?”
“I left some with Steven too. Best that we distribute the wealth just in case something else blows up. Got to make sure that Miss Lily remains in the finest of fashions.”
“Even if the reason you tracked me down was to make a buck, if you hadn’t been there, Lily and I would be in some government prison, or maybe dead. We’re alive, in part, because of you. But I still don’t think you should stick around.”
“And miss all these wonderful accommodations?” Quincy yawned. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that Steven said to wake him up when we get in. He said something about experimenting with something as you slept. What’s he talking about?”
“I’ll explain when we get inside. It’s about trying to stop the spread of the disasters. I don’t know if it will work.”
“Well, whatever he wants to try, I’m here to help too. Feel free to use me for my money.” Quincy patted him on the back as they rounded the building.
William laughed. “Thank you, Quincy.”
As they quietly opened the door to the room, they could see Lily in a hard sleep on top of the covers. Steven was slumped in a chair, his head resting on his shoulder.
Quincy walked over, whispering. “Steven, wake up—”
The door behind them flew open with a bang, slamming against the wall. The barrels of guns moved into the room.
They were on William in a heartbeat, pushing him on top of the bed with his arm twisted behind his back, rushing over to point their guns at Steven’s head. They even moved in on Lily, guns drawn.
None were dressed in black.
“Mr. Martin, are you alright?” asked a nervous man, considerably smaller than his gun-toting companions, quickly shutting the door.
“Holy crap, Phil!” Quincy smacked his hands together. “My God, it worked! I could kiss you. For Christ sake, put the guns down. Bob, Tommy, come on. Guns down. Richie, loosen up on the redhead. Let go. That’s an order.”
William felt it, the rush inside him. A match scratched across stone. An automatic reaction that he wanted this man off him, for the pain of his twisted arm to stop.
He twisted his head around to Lily, who had sat up and was focusing her eyes on the man holding him down.
No, Lily. No!
He watched her flinch for a moment, and then go back to being just a frightened little girl.
“Hey guys, I’m serious.” Quincy snapped his fingers. “Guns down! Let him up.”
“Mr. Martin, we have to go,” said the fidgeting man at the door.
“Everybody chill out right now,” Quincy said. “I appreciate the cavalry, but enough. You found me, I’m safe, I’m fine. Look at me, OK? I’m not in danger. Not by these people. Get it? Drop the weapons.”
“Mr. Martin, please. Our car is waiting outside.”
“Phil, you’re my damn assistant, not the director of my security team. That’s you, Richie. So loosen up on Will there, let him go.”
“We’ve got our orders, Mr. Martin,” grunted the man holding William. “The board is displeased.”
“Your orders come from me, Richie.” Quincy’s face was turning red now. “And you followed protocol. As soon as I got money out of that ATM account, you knew to track it. And it worked. But I’m altering whatever plans you’ve been given. We need a car and a plane big enough for all of us.”
“Get him out, fellas,” the man ordered.
Their guns still focused on Lily and Steven, the men moved towards Quincy, motioning to him to follow.
“Hey, you don’t make the decisions here. I’m the one whose initial is on the plane, remember? Phil, like I said, we need a car for all of us—”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Martin, but that’s not our orders. We’re bringing you in to safety. The board is really concerned. The stocks have tanked since you disappeared—”
“The board?” Quincy roared. “You can go back and tell those jack offs that I call the shots. And I’m not going anywhere without this crew. Richie, you don’t understand—”
“Sorry, Mr. Martin. You know the board. Millionaires with this much at stake don’t mess around. They want you brought in safely, away from these people,” the man holding William said. “And ultimately, that board is who makes sure we get paid. And we need our paychecks. We’re going now.”
The beefy security men were on Quincy, rushing him out like a president under fire.
“No!” Quincy ordered, even trying to wrench away, but the men were built like semi trucks.
The bodyguard leaned down to William. “I will have a gun on you until we are out of this place. Don’t you think about making a damn move.”
With a final hard press on William’s arm, the man backed out, his gun still pointed at them. Swiftly and quietly, he shut the door.
Seconds later, there was a squeal of tires and a flash of headlights. What remained was a street, dark and still.
TWELVE
“You are going to burn a hole in that carpet if you walk in front of that window one more time.”
Lynn stopped pacing, her hand rising in exasperation. “What else am I supposed to do?”
“You should look over this pamphlet on the Antietam Campaign Trail, as I have seventeen thousand times.” Roxy took the brochure and threw it back in the drawer by the nightstand.