Jenny Plague-Bringer

Chapter Twenty-Six



Mariella awoke slowly, the tranquilizer gas still floating in her brain like leftover wisps of fog. Her eyes crept open, revealing drab gray walls, a single steel door with a small, clear window, a sink, a toilet. The ceiling had a sickly glowing fluorescent panel and the sort of tiny black inverted dome that usually housed a security camera.

Her bed was hard and narrow, like a prison cot. The entire place looked like a prison cell, in fact, and there was no handle on her side of the door.

She tried to remember where she was and how she’d gotten there. Slowly, her memory came back. They’d been among the stones at Carnac, and someone had captured them. Her precognition had failed to protect them—she’d thought they might have more time before the man that Jenny called “Kranzler” came to capture Seth. It looked like he’d captured Mariella, too, which was probably why her vision of the event had been so fuzzy. It was hard to see her own future, and even harder when perception-distorting mushrooms and sleeping gas were added to the mix.

Then she remembered everything. Before they’d been captured, Mariella had fully remembered dozens of prior lifetimes—not all her past lives, because the process had been interrupted, but plenty of them. She was the ancient soul called the oracle, and Mariella Visconti was just one of many masks she’d worn and discarded over the millennia.

Another such mask was Mia Ruggieri, the poor, clueless peasant girl from Sicily whose reputation for seeing the future had attracted the interest of the German scientists. They’d offered her a sizable amount of money for joining their research, enough to provide for her parents and six brothers and sisters for years to come. Under strong pressure from her parents, Mia had accepted the offer, turned all the money over to her father, and traveled off to Germany with the strange foreign men.

She stood, stretched, and walked to the door to peer out the window. All she saw was a concrete corridor and a similar steel door across from hers. She touched the blank area on the door where the handle should have been. She pounded her fist on the window, but nobody came.

With nothing to do, Mariella eventually reflected on her past dealings with Kranzler and the others, trying to prepare for whatever might lie ahead. Looking into her own future, she only saw a dark blur. Even her visions of love and passion with Seth had deserted her. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed, or maybe frightened—it could mean that one or both of them were going to die, and so the anticipated future was gone.

Within an hour after she awoke, a voice crackled from somewhere in the ceiling above. “The general wants to see you.”

A man in a black uniform appeared at the window in her door. She nodded and gave him a small wave.

“I should warn you,” he said. It was odd to watch his lips move in front of her but hear his voice electronically amplified above her. “We’re all armed with X3 TASER guns. We won’t hesitate to take you down if you give us trouble.”

“There’s no need to expect trouble from me,” Mariella said. “I promise. I wish to see the general as well.”

The guard nodded. There was an electronic buzz, followed by a mechanical thunk, as her door unlocked. The guard pulled it open and let her out into the hall. Two other guards were there, with their hornet-yellow electrical stun weapons drawn and pointed at her. She held up her hands and gave them a reassuring smile.

She noticed that the guards wore armored black uniforms without no flag or logo, as if the organization that employed them did not want to be associated with their actions. Two wore thick helmets, face shields, and gloves, as if specifically prepared to deal with paranormals. Mariella wouldn’t be glimpsing any of their futures.

They led her down the corridor. She noticed Seth through one of the narrow windows, still unconscious on a bed in his own cell. She didn’t see Jenny in any of the cells, though, just a Latino girl she didn’t recognize, sitting on her cot and staring into space.

The guards took her through another, larger steel door at the end of the hallway, which had to be unlocked with a plastic ID card. They turned down another corridor and passed through another secure door, then rode an elevator up a level.

As they took her down a narrow side corridor to a suite of offices, Mariella felt her skin prickle. She recognized where she was—the colors had gone from gray and green to white, making it feel more like a modern research lab and less like a military base, but beneath that, everything was still the same. It felt the same.

Memories from that past life bubbled everywhere in the underground base. Why not? They were gathering back in the same place—herself, the plague-bringer, the healer, the seer. She wondered whether the Latin girl in the other cell just happened to be the love-charmer, or perhaps the dead-speaker.

The setting and characters might have been the same, but Mariella intended for the story to end differently this time.

The guards took her to exactly the office door she expected, the largest office. Inside, a burly man in a general’s uniform stood behind his desk, and she barely had to look at him to recognize that this was the man from her vision, the man who’d been searching for them. She also knew that, in a past life, this man had been a Nazi S.S. officer named Helmut Kranzler. There was no mistaking his heavy, menacing presence.

He smiled and offered his hand, his green eyes eerily like her own. There was a strange energy in the room between them. They were opposites, but not exactly the sort who fell in love like Jenny and Seth. She wondered if he had any of his past memories, or if he were limited to the gnat-sized viewpoint of a single lifetime.

“Miss Visconti, my name is General Ward Kilpatrick, United States Department of Defense.” He shook her hand, and she noticed he wore gloves, maybe to protect himself from her power. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“I wasn’t aware I had a choice, General,” Mariella said.

“Please, ma’am, have a seat. You can relax now.” He dropped into his chair and waved the guards away. “You can go, boys, she’s not violent.”

“We’ll be right outside.” One of the guards closed the door.

Mariella slowly sat down opposite him. “Where am I?” she asked, though in a sense, she knew perfectly well. Germany. The Harz mountains.

“You are at a top-secret defense research facility,” Ward said. “I apologize for bringing you here under these circumstances, ma’am, but you were in the company of a wanted mass murderer. Jennifer Morton. I’m not sure what name she might have told you.”

“Genevieve? She can’t be a murderer.”

“Oh, yes.” Ward turned his computer screen toward her and summoned images of bodies in clear plastic bags, disfigured and twisted by horrific diseases. “Two hundred people, right in her own hometown. Kids from her school. The pastor at her church. The mayor.” He scrolled through more and more pictures, intestines poking through rotten flesh, eye sockets full of tumorous gore, until Mariella had to stop herself from being sick. “She did this to her own, Miss Visconti, not to some foreign enemy. Can you imagine a person who would inflict that on her own people?”

“I can’t.” Mariella shook her head. “Are you sure she did it? She seems so nice.”

“She did it. Her touch spreads a deadly infection...you already know all about that, Miss Visconti. We overheard you have a secret of your own, don’t you?” He leaned forward, grinning and speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. “What is it like, Miss Visconti? Seeing other people’s futures?”

“You know about that?” Mariella faked a surprised gasp. “I tried to keep it secret for so long.”

“Your secret will remain safe with me, don’t you worry.” Ward leaned back. “Miss Visconti, you’re a law-abiding citizen from a good family. How did you get tangled up with these criminals, Jenny and Seth?”

“I only met them a few weeks ago, honestly,” Mariella said. “If you’ve been spying on them, you must know that, don’t you? Whatever terrible crimes they’ve committed, I want you to know that I was not involved, I barely know these people, and I just want to go home.” Mariella’s voice cracked, and she teared up. “I just want to see my family. That’s all.”

“Oh, no, wait.” He sat up, taken aback by her sudden outpouring. “You don’t need to be afraid as long as you cooperate. You see, this project ultimately affects the entire Western world. We hoped that, given your family’s prominence in Italy, you might be willing to work with us, on the side of law and order.”

“Work...with you? How?” She looked up at him, wiping her eyes.

“We’d begin with basic scientific tests, studying and measuring your precognitive ability, and unraveling what makes it tick. Wouldn’t it be nice to understand yourself better?”

“I suppose it could.” Mariella nodded and gave him a weak smile.

“In time, you might have assignments. Protecting NATO interests, including Italy. We might send you to read the future of a specific influential person, for example.”

Mariella thought it over. “So...I would be a spy?”

“Essentially. But we would need your absolute loyalty.”

“I’ve always wanted to be a spy. Is that silly?” Mariella gave an embarrassed giggle.

“Not to me. You would be on our side, the good guys working against the evil in the world. Secret missions, traveling in disguise. Would you like that?”

“Oh, yes!” Mariella’s eyes lit up, and she tried to sound as naive and impressed as possible. “Do you mean it? You want me for that?”

“We think you would make an excellent agent,” he continued, really laying it on thick. “Young, intelligent, well-bred, educated...and a very useful power in your hands. Will you work with us?”

Mariella gaped at him for a long moment.

“Is that a yes?” he finally asked.

“Oh, yes, please, of course, sir!” She bounced in her chair as if she couldn’t contain herself. “What’s my first mission?”

He laughed. “Decorate your room. We’re moving you out of the cellblock and into more comfortable quarters. We have your overnight bag from Carnac waiting for you. Just let us know what else you need.”

“Egyptian cotton sheets.”

“Excuse me?”

“At least twelve hundred thread count, and they must be organic, or it’s just not comfortable,” Mariella said. “I’ll make you a list of everything I need once I see the accommodations.”

Ward rubbed the side of his head. “Not a problem.”

“Do I get a secret spy name? Or a code number?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“What kind of spying will I do?”

“Your first job is to call your parents and let them know you’re safe,” he said. “Tell them you took a semester off to study Alpine folk music, or whatever bullshit you have to tell them, so they aren’t calling every police agency in France searching for you.”

“Oh, yes, sir! I’ll come up with something. Something very clever.” She winked.

“Good. The guards will show you to your new room. Any more questions?”

“Only a million!” Mariella said. “But I can wait, I see you’re busy.” She bounced out of her chair and smiled over her shoulder as she approached the door.

The guards brought her to the largest room on a dormitory hall that had no other residents. They showed her the common area and bathroom, both of which she had to herself for now. She was certain that she was being monitored with hidden cameras. The general was treating her well, but that didn’t mean he trusted her. She certainly didn’t trust him. He was probably just worried about her family’s influence. If they learned an American agency had kidnapped their daughter, it would only take one phone call from her grandfather to elevate the complaint to NATO...which explained why the general was being so nice to her.

She sat down on her new bed as the three guards left, snickering to herself for insisting on organic Egyptian sheets. She’d give him a laundry list of luxury items, playing the spoiled rich girl. If he thought she was shallow and empty-headed, he’d probably find her less suspicious.

Her mind boiled over with strong memories from this same hall. This room had belonged to Alise, not to her. Mariella supposed she was now the hallway fuehrer.

Mariella had once shared a smaller room down the hall with Jenny, when their names were Mia and Juliana. She smiled to herself at the memory. She could almost hear Duke Ellington’s orchestra echoing softly in her ears, tinged by the scratchy crackle of a phonograph record.

She smiled as the memory welled up inside her.


“Juliana,” Mia whispered, shaking the sleeping girl’s arm with her gloved hand. It was a Saturday, a few minutes after midnight. “Juliana, you have to wake up!”

“What’s happening?” Juliana’s eyes opened just a sliver. The room was dim, lit only by a single small lamp in the corner. Without it, the underground chamber was dead black.

“I have to tell you something,” Mia whispered.

“What is it? Are you hurt?” Juliana leaned up on elbow to look at Mia, who knelt on the floor by Juliana’s bed.

“No, but I have to show you something.” Mia crawled over to her bed, reached underneath, and found the paper-wrapped package. She carried it over to Juliana.

“What is that?”

“Burgundy!” Mia whispered, unwrapping the bottle.

“You have wine?” Juliana sat up now, brushing long hairs from her face. “How?”

“I sweet-talked a kitchen steward. He swiped it from the officers’ wine cellar for me! Can you believe it?”

“Good job!” Juliana said.

“I’ve been saving it for tonight. You’ve been so sad ever since the...poor goats...” Mia bit her lip, wishing she hadn’t said it, but the thought had slipped out.

“The poor goats.” Juliana frowned and looked at the floor.

“So, I think we must drink. Let’s go the common room. We can play music there.”

“We’ll wake everyone up.”

“Not if we play it softly.” Mia took her gloved hand. “Please. It’s so boring here.”

Juliana laughed.

They crept down the hall in bare feet, Mia in her nightgown, Juliana wearing the baggy cotton nightshirt that she’d originally bought for Sebastian, but he’d only worn it a few nights on the ship before she stole it. Juliana had blushed as she told Mia about it.

They eased through the double doors to the common area, and they tiptoed past the bathroom door to the lounge area with the bookshelves and phonograph. Mia played a jazz record, Duke Ellington, and uncorked the bottle. She took a long sip and passed it to Juliana, then watched uneasily as Juliana drank from the bottle’s mouth.

“I won’t get sick if I drink after you, will I?” Mia asked, and Juliana gave her a sad, hurt look.

“No, you’re fine,” Juliana whispered as she passed the bottle back.

“So what do you hate most about this place?” Mia asked.

“You don’t sound happy to be here.”

“I know you’re not, either,” Mia said. “I can see it in your face.”

“I just don’t like killing the animals. I hope they don’t do that again, I don’t think I can handle it. And I miss Sebastian.” Juliana took the bottle back and drank more.

“You see him at meals,” Mia said.

“Only at meals. I used to see him all the time. On the ship, we were together all day and night, dancing, or reading stories, or secretly making fun of the other people onboard...” Juliana and Mia both laughed. “What I really miss is the kissing, so much kissing.”

“Was it just kissing? Or more?”

Juliana bit her lip, then giggled. “More.”

“A little more, or a lot more?”

“A lot,” Juliana said, and they laughed again. “I miss him so much.”

“You must. He’s so handsome.”

“Do you have anyone? Back at home, maybe?”

“No one who’s going to wait for me,” Mia said. “I don’t even know how long I have to stay here.”

“Can’t you leave whenever you want?”

“I wish.” Mia explained how she’d accepted money to be a lab rat for the Nazis, and how her family had pushed her to do it. “There was a boy I liked, during the time when I ran away to Rome...but I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again. He’ll be with someone else. He was never with me, anyway.” She drank more, then put the bottle down on the table and hopped to her feet, holding out her hand. “We can dance. We don’t need boys for that.”

“Don’t get too close to me,” Juliana warned, but she let Mia pull her to her feet.

They danced to the fast, heady music, and soon they were trying to outdo each other with silly moves. Mia couldn’t stop laughing. It was the first good time she’d had since leaving Sicily.

They jumped up on the couch, and Juliana showed off some of her American flapper moves, lifting the hem of her long shirt and kicking to show a lot of bare leg. Mia imitated her, and soon they were trying to out-sexy each other instead. Juliana laughed so hard she lost her balance, and the couch cushion slid out from beneath her. Mia thought nothing of catching her, then holding her hands and dancing with her. She knew Juliana’s touch was death, but she was filled with the combined confidence of wine and youth. Dancing with death made her feel alive.

A female voice shouted, and the needle was ripped from the record, scratching it terribly.

“I said, what is happening here?” the voice demanded in German. Mia and Juliana were both learning the language while they were here, but between themselves, they spoke in English, the language of Hollywood movies.

Alise had entered the room, flanked by her two blond cohorts, Roza and Vilja. They were wrapped in robes or blankets and glared indignantly at the two girls cavorting to jazz in their night clothes.

“We’re dancing,” Mia said. “Want to join?”

“No music after ten o’ clock,” Alise said. “The rules are clear!”

“But it’s Saturday night,” Juliana protested.

“And unauthorized wine!” Roza said, pointing. “Look, Alise. Nobody else gets to have wine. The scientists forbid it.”

“Thank you, Roza. Who gave you permission to drink? Where did you get that wine?” Alise demanded.

“Oh, Alise.” Mia’s words were slurred. “We’re just having fun.”

“There is plenty of room for fun within the rules,” Alise said.

“I think someone’s taking their hallway fuehrer job a little seriously,” Juliana said, and Mia laughed.

“Rules must be followed!” Alise barked so hard that locks of blond fell into her face, and her serious tone only made Mia and Juliana giggle more. “That is not a proper use of the common area seating! Get down now!”

Mia and Juliana stepped down from the couch, still holding hands and giggling.

“You are both on administrative restriction,” Alise told them.

“How could this place get any more restricted?” Mia asked through her drunken giggles.

Alise narrowed her eyes at Mia and leaned in close to her. “Try me if you want to find out. Back to your rooms immediately. I will be filling out an incident report for Dr. Wichtmann.” She turned on her heel and marched out of the room.

“Oh, no, an incident report!” Juliana said, and Mia laughed.

“You’re both in a lot of trouble,” Roza said, crossing her arms. “I hope you know that.”

“They might kick us out,” Mia said. “How terrible!”

Juliana and Mia couldn’t stop snickering as the blond girls herded them down the hall and back into their room. The two of them lay on Mia’s bed, whispering and making fun of the other girls, and laughing and shushing each other, until they fell asleep.