Jenny Plague-Bringer

Chapter Nineteen



Ward approached the grimy concrete building housing the nightclub, as well as a bail bond place and a pawn shop that had both closed until morning. The club was in the half-buried basement of the strip mall, and its entrance was at the back, not visible from the road. Broken bottles littered the gravel parking lot, which was crowded with cars even though it was the day after Christmas.

Two doors led into the basement. One of them had been surrounded by chainlink to form a smoking pen, where a few kids in spiked, dark mesh clothes smoked cigarettes. A boy whose earlobe had been stretched to grotesque proportions was making out with a girl who had a long needle through her eyebrow.

His target, Tommy, sat on a stool by the other door. It was propped open, and the sound of a loud band slamming their instruments pulsed out from inside the dark club.

Ward approached Tommy, flanked by Buchanan and Avery, who stayed a half-step behind him. They all wore thick leather gloves tonight, and he’d warned them not to touch Tommy at all if they could avoid it. The boy’s touch could shatter a man’s mind with fear.

Tommy looked them over sullenly as they approached, studying their dark suits and ties. He smelled like he hadn’t bathed in a couple of days, and his long hair was dirty and tangled.

“I don’t think this is really your scene, guys,” Tommy said as they stood before him. “Somewhere in Orange County, an Applebee’s is calling your name.”

“We didn’t come for the music or ambiance, Mr. White,” Ward said.

Tommy sat up on his stool, and his eyes widened. He glanced among the three of them, probably realizing that he couldn’t win a straight fight, and would need his power if he wanted to escape. Ward didn’t want him running just yet.

“Settle down, we’re not here to hurt you,” Ward told him. “That is your name, isn’t it? Thomas White? Also known as Thomas Krueger? Currently going by Thomas Voorhees. Cute.”

“Who are you?” Tommy asked.

“We are with the Department of Defense,” Ward said. “We know you escaped from a maximum-security penitentiary in Louisiana, and the guards there would just love to have you back. We also know that you killed your foster father, Ben Tanner, just before you went and caused that riot in Charleston. Your foster mother says you were a very disturbed boy.”

“You talked to her?” Tommy asked.

“She’s doing well with Mr. Tanner dead, I’d say. Spent some of the life insurance money on a candy-pink Le Baron convertible. Didn’t you think she looked well, Buchanan, in that red Christmas dress?”

“Yes, very healthy,” Buchanan replied.

Tommy shrugged, as though indifferent to his foster mother’s fate.

“Have you ever played Monopoly, Tommy?” Ward asked. “I’m offering you a little orange Get Out of Jail Free card. We can expunge your entire criminal record, make you a free man. No more scurrying around in the dark.”

“In exchange for what?” Tommy asked. He had a cornered-rat look in his eyes, still deciding whether to fight or flee.

“In exchange, you serve our country. You apply your fear-inducing ability toward protecting American interests around the world. Surely you don’t want to do this for the rest of your life.” Ward pointed inside the dark, loud club.

Tommy shrugged. “This job’s okay.”

“It’s okay? Son, you have a tremendous power inside you. You’ve got to have some ambition, don’t you? You could be out there making the world safe for America. You could be a hero instead of a criminal. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“What’s it pay?” Tommy asked.

“Pay?” Ward shook his head, exasperated. He was ready to punch the kid in the nose. “We’re talking about you finally doing something worthwhile with your life. You’ve got to look at the bigger picture here.”

“So the pay sucks,” Tommy said.

“It has to be more than you’re making here,” Ward said. “Room, board, medical, and we’ll pay you what we pay the Special Forces guys. Is that good enough? Or do you want to sit on this goddamn stool collecting dollar bills from drugged-out kids until it’s time for you to go back to prison with an extended sentence? What the hell are your plans for your life?”

Tommy sank on his seat, looking like a petulant child.

“Wake up, kid,” Ward said. “This is your only chance. You’ve got to see that.”

“I’ll think about it.” Tommy scratched his head.

Ward shook his head in disbelief. What was the kid’s problem?

“We want your girl to come, too,” Ward added. “Esmeralda, the one who can speak with the dead? We want both of you. Go and talk to her about it, too.”

“You want Esmeralda, too?”

“Isn’t that what I said?” Ward glared at the dirty, long-haired kid and tried to keep his temper under control. “Go and talk to her about it,” he repeated.

“I guess I will.” Tommy shrugged.

“You’ve got twenty-four hours,” Ward said. “It shouldn’t take you twenty-four seconds to make this choice. At your age, it’s time to stop being a slacker and start being a man.” Ward handed him a plain white business card—no logo, no name, just a single phone number. “We’ll be back tomorrow. Call if you come to your senses before then.” Ward turned and walked away, followed by his two assistants.

“I’m not working tomorrow,” Tommy said.

“You’re barely working now,” Ward replied without looking back. “Don’t worry, we always know where to find you. Just don’t do anything stupid between now and then.”

When they returned to the car, the wheels in Ward’s mind were turning. He’d believed that Tommy had been the leader of a small group of paranormals, but he was starting to doubt that assessment. The kid could barely lead himself to the bathroom to take a piss. The faction must have had a different leader...maybe the zombie-master guy, but he was dead, according to Heather Reynard’s memories. Killed by Seth’s healing power, somehow.

So, Ward reasoned, maybe Tommy and Esmeralda didn’t have a leader anymore, they were just wandering without any direction at all. Ward was prepared to give them one.

Their next stop was a motel not far from Tommy and Esmeralda’s apartment, just off the interstate. They would listen to the device Buchanan had set up, a laser listening system pointed at the apartment window. The laser translated glass vibrations back into sound, creating a clean way to bug a room without ever entering the premises. They would be able to hear what Tommy and Esmeralda’s thoughts might be regarding whether to serve their country or not.

“Kid looks like a real loser,” Avery commented as they pulled out onto a busy boulevard.

“We’ll see,” Ward replied.


“You have to come with me,” Tommy said. He’d already crammed half his clothes into a duffel bag, and he was trying to shove more into it.

“The only thing I have to do is catch the bus,” Esmeralda told him, buttoning her blouse. It was seven in the morning and Tommy’s eyes were open, which meant he’d skipped sleeping after he’d gotten home from work. He looked disheveled, with a sheen of nervous sweat. “Why don’t you take a bath?” she asked him.

“You’re not listening, Esmeralda. They’re going to delete my prison record. If I don’t do what they want, they’ll probably send me back to prison. I don’t have a choice.”

“You could ride away,” Esmeralda said. “Go hide somewhere new.”

“If I did that, would you come with me?”

“I can’t, Tommy. I have school, and my mother. And you know how much trouble I had finding another job after I ran away last time.” She pulled on a pair of dark slacks. “And that crappy new job is where I need to be in thirty minutes.”

“This is our big chance to really do something with our lives. Don’t you want that?” He reached for her arm, but she shook him off.

“I am doing something with my life,” Esmeralda told him.

“What, putting make-up on dead people?”

“I like dead people. They tell interesting stories.”

“Don’t you want an interesting life?” Tommy asked. “Instead of just watching what dead people did with their time?”

“If you want to go off and be an assassin or whatever they want, that’s your choice. Staying here and living my own life, that’s mine.” Esmeralda trembled, feeling fear tinged with hope. Maybe he would go. Maybe this was finally it. He made her feel protected, but also miserable. Without him, she would be vulnerable and free.

“Then maybe I’ll go without you,” he growled, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe you’ll never see me again.”

Esmeralda stared back at him, feeling the war inside herself between the part of her that craved him and shivered at his touch, and the smarter part, the one that knew he would only destroy her life if they stayed together.

“You don’t have anything to say?” he asked.

Esmeralda sighed and folded her arms. “You need someone to order you around, don’t you, Tommy? Somebody in command, like Ashleigh, always telling you what to do. I give you your freedom to be anything you want to be, and all you do is piss yourself away.”

He glowered at her, his jaw grinding inside his cheek. He looked like a mad dog.

“So you think I’m worthless. Anything else?” he snarled.

“I did not say that.”

“You basically did.”

“I have to work, Tommy.” Esmeralda started for the door.

“I might not be here when you get back,” he called after her.

Esmeralda resisted the temptation to turn around and say anything. She walked out the door, closed it firmly behind her, and started down the concrete stairwell.

When she returned from work that evening, Tommy and his clothes were gone. So was the gold 1908 Indian-head coin he’d given her when they’d first met as children. She didn’t know if he was keeping it as a reminder of her, or taking it away to show her that they were finished.

Either way, at least her mother would be pleased to hear that Tommy was gone. Maybe she would start talking to Esmeralda again.