again trying to explain why death followed her like a puppy dog with razor teeth.
"You could have stopped it all earlier," she said, angrily. "You could have frozen them before, maybe outside, anywhere. Why didn’t you stop them."
"You were not in danger."
That was the way of it. Jen was a tool, and she was badly used. More people were going to die because Kira didn’t understand, wasn’t smart enough to wield her properly.
"I’ll stay here forever, if that’s what it takes," she whispered, staring at the lady in the blue dress.
"Then eventually the Grigs will come. The Empty-eyed-man will come here, and many more will die."
Kira closed her eyes against the tears of frustration. She wanted to slap Jen, but she knew that would do no good. Nothing would do any good until she could understand what was going on, how she could stop the madness-if, indeed, there was any way to stop it.
"Walk away now," said Jen, quietly.
Kira sighed, stepping away from the group, turning toward the door. Jen held her position, leaning on the counter, but her eyes pleaded with Kira to keep going. When Kira reached the heavy double doors she glanced one last time at the little group, at Bullet’s finger tight on the trigger of the pistol, at the look of fear on the faces of the lady in blue, the old man, the teller. She bit her lip, opened the door and stepped once more out into the warm, mist-filtered sunlight that now felt cold as a steel spike in the winter. As the door clumped closed behind her she heard alarm bells clammering in the distance, a shot from inside the bank, then several more in rapid succession, but she was already disappearing down the sidewalk even as sirens sounded and curious towners rushed by her toward the bank.
As she rounded the corner she found Jen leaning against the front door in an empty storefront doorway. Jen joined her on the sidewalk, and they trudged away in slump-shouldered silence.
Chapter 15
Across the road a ramshackle honky-tonk named Barney’s--that was more neon than cracking paint--shielded wide fields of green tobacco that rolled away to the treeline down by some unnamed creek. Kira and Jen shared an outdoor table at an ancient Dairy Queen, eating hamburgers that Kira barely tasted but which, of course, Jen wolfed down greedily. Sirens still echoed up the highway, the killings drawing cops from all over the county.
"How did you do that?" asked Kira.
"The same way you do what you do."
Kira shook her head. "I can’t do anything like that. Sometimes I can fool people into seeing things that aren’t there."
"Why do you say they aren’t there?"
Kira frowned. "Because they aren’t. I don’t magically make money appear. I just mess with their heads, and they think it’s there."
Jen frowned right back. "Why do you believe that?"
"Because that’s what happens."
"And you think that afterwards, after we’re gone, the money just disappears?"
"Of course."
Jen raised the eyebrow over her good eye as though to say, interesting.
"What do you think happens to it?" asked Kira.
"I think we all learn what we need to learn," said Jen.
"How did you know what was gonna happen in the bank?" asked Kira, sighing at the cryptic answer.
Jen shrugged.
"What did happen?" asked Kira, hesitantly.
Jen turned away, staring at a carload of teenagers, laughing uproariously at the drive-through window.
"How many died?" whispered Kira.
"No good comes from knowing."
"But you do. Don’t you?"
Jen nodded.
"Tell me what happened," insisted Kira.
"The teller’s glass was bullet proof."
"So she lived?"
Jen shook her head. "He shot the other’s first. Before the police arrived he climbed over the window and took the teller hostage. The standoff only ended a few minutes ago."
"I saw you cringe," said Kira, remembering how Jen had suddenly stumbled.
Jen nodded.
Kira swallowed a large lump in her throat. "The teller?"
"What good to know?"
"Because I
"You could have stopped it all earlier," she said, angrily. "You could have frozen them before, maybe outside, anywhere. Why didn’t you stop them."
"You were not in danger."
That was the way of it. Jen was a tool, and she was badly used. More people were going to die because Kira didn’t understand, wasn’t smart enough to wield her properly.
"I’ll stay here forever, if that’s what it takes," she whispered, staring at the lady in the blue dress.
"Then eventually the Grigs will come. The Empty-eyed-man will come here, and many more will die."
Kira closed her eyes against the tears of frustration. She wanted to slap Jen, but she knew that would do no good. Nothing would do any good until she could understand what was going on, how she could stop the madness-if, indeed, there was any way to stop it.
"Walk away now," said Jen, quietly.
Kira sighed, stepping away from the group, turning toward the door. Jen held her position, leaning on the counter, but her eyes pleaded with Kira to keep going. When Kira reached the heavy double doors she glanced one last time at the little group, at Bullet’s finger tight on the trigger of the pistol, at the look of fear on the faces of the lady in blue, the old man, the teller. She bit her lip, opened the door and stepped once more out into the warm, mist-filtered sunlight that now felt cold as a steel spike in the winter. As the door clumped closed behind her she heard alarm bells clammering in the distance, a shot from inside the bank, then several more in rapid succession, but she was already disappearing down the sidewalk even as sirens sounded and curious towners rushed by her toward the bank.
As she rounded the corner she found Jen leaning against the front door in an empty storefront doorway. Jen joined her on the sidewalk, and they trudged away in slump-shouldered silence.
Chapter 15
Across the road a ramshackle honky-tonk named Barney’s--that was more neon than cracking paint--shielded wide fields of green tobacco that rolled away to the treeline down by some unnamed creek. Kira and Jen shared an outdoor table at an ancient Dairy Queen, eating hamburgers that Kira barely tasted but which, of course, Jen wolfed down greedily. Sirens still echoed up the highway, the killings drawing cops from all over the county.
"How did you do that?" asked Kira.
"The same way you do what you do."
Kira shook her head. "I can’t do anything like that. Sometimes I can fool people into seeing things that aren’t there."
"Why do you say they aren’t there?"
Kira frowned. "Because they aren’t. I don’t magically make money appear. I just mess with their heads, and they think it’s there."
Jen frowned right back. "Why do you believe that?"
"Because that’s what happens."
"And you think that afterwards, after we’re gone, the money just disappears?"
"Of course."
Jen raised the eyebrow over her good eye as though to say, interesting.
"What do you think happens to it?" asked Kira.
"I think we all learn what we need to learn," said Jen.
"How did you know what was gonna happen in the bank?" asked Kira, sighing at the cryptic answer.
Jen shrugged.
"What did happen?" asked Kira, hesitantly.
Jen turned away, staring at a carload of teenagers, laughing uproariously at the drive-through window.
"How many died?" whispered Kira.
"No good comes from knowing."
"But you do. Don’t you?"
Jen nodded.
"Tell me what happened," insisted Kira.
"The teller’s glass was bullet proof."
"So she lived?"
Jen shook her head. "He shot the other’s first. Before the police arrived he climbed over the window and took the teller hostage. The standoff only ended a few minutes ago."
"I saw you cringe," said Kira, remembering how Jen had suddenly stumbled.
Jen nodded.
Kira swallowed a large lump in her throat. "The teller?"
"What good to know?"
"Because I
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