Living with the Dead

HOPE





She knew the boy was going to jump.

Hope saw him look at the edge. She felt his terror. She heard his thoughts. She knew.

Everything they’d done so far had only scared him more, and now, hearing that awful, unthinkable thought, what went through her head was don’t move! So she didn’t. And in that hesitation, she’d lost him.

He’d bolted. She’d sprung after him. And Karl, on the other side of the door, heard it happen, heard whatever she screamed, and the door flew open and he barreled through and she’d seen his arm swing up, palm going out, thought he was warning her off. Then she felt the blow, his hand slamming into her solar plexus and the wind flying out of her lungs, her feet sailed out from under her and she hit the roof. Then Robyn was there, pulling her up and Hope scrambled to her feet, gaze shooting to the roof edge, seeing not the boy jumping but Karl.

Karl had lunged to catch the boy, grabbing for him, then realized that he’d gone over the edge. Anything the boy felt at that moment was drowned out by Karl’s stunned mental oh shit, his fear slamming Hope in the gut, knocking the wind out of her again, an iron spike of chaos power-driving into her skull. And if there was any pleasure to be found in that chaos, she didn’t feel it.

The boy fell.

Hope saw Karl’s hand brush his, but it was only a brush. He twisted, catching the edge, and then the boy fell, and there was, for a horrible moment she would never purge from her memory, a surge of incredible relief. The boy fell. But Karl did not. That was all that mattered.

Hope dropped to her knees at the edge. She threw up. Heaved and spewed, vomit splattering over the metal ledge, dappling Karl’s fingers, gripping the edge.

A sob hiccupped out, the burn of tears, shaking her head so hard she couldn’t see.

“Shhh, shhh, shhh,” Karl whispered. “I’m fine. I’ve got it. I’ve been in this situation before, as you may recall.”

He’d shown her memory-visions of a time he’d tried to jump between buildings and missed, a chaos treat that she wasn’t sure she could ever enjoy again.

Robyn raced up behind Hope. “Here, he can grab—”

“No!” Hope turned on her, spitting the word. “Don’t touch him.”

“I’m okay, Robyn,” Karl said. “Hope’s right. Best not to help. I can do this.”

“Quickly,” Hope said. “Please.”

It took two heaves, the first failed one jolting Hope’s heart into her throat, but on the second, his feet swung up and stayed.

Only when he was safe did she remember the boy.

Hope leaned over the edge, but Karl caught her hand as he got up, and said simply, “No,” and with that she knew the boy was dead.

“I have to check,” she said.

Karl’s jaw set, biting back the words. Hope still heard them, carried on a wave of anxiety and frustration.

“Hope’s right,” Robyn said, stepping forward. “We should check. Call an ambulance if there’s any chance.”

The look Karl would have liked to give Hope he shot at Robyn instead.

Robyn’s confusion swirled around Hope. There was too much going on here, too much subtext Robyn could feel and couldn’t understand.

This wasn’t about checking on the boy; it was about Hope. She’d been so absorbed by the chaos of Karl jumping that she’d missed the boy’s death. Those vibes would come later, in visions and nightmares, the horror and the bliss. She needed to get that over with now.

So they went downstairs. Or they did after cleaning up the vomit and searching the gravel roof for anything they might have dropped. The police might search up here, and that had to take priority.

When they arrived at ground level, there was still no wail of sirens. The boy had jumped at the side of the building, landing between it and a fence, and until someone happened to glance over and see a body on the pavement, he wouldn’t be found.

But as they walked out the exit door, a wave of grief hit Hope, and she knew he had been found.

She caught Karl’s sleeve. “Someone’s there.”

His chin lifted, nostrils flaring. Then he shook his head. The ping of frustration from him told her he meant the wind was wrong, not that no one was there.

Robyn stepped closer. “The police already?”

“No. I sense— It’s someone who knew him.”

“Adele,” Robyn murmured. “She must have circled back and seen.”

“Robyn?” Karl said. “Can you shoot?”

Her expression answered.

“Will you, then.” Impatience touched his voice. “Could you?”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

Hope did. Adele was in a pseudoalley. The best way to take her down was with people at either end. The one who currently held the gun couldn’t be trusted not to float off to chaos candy-land when she got near the body.

“Between the two of us, we’ll manage,” Hope said.