Val dodged happy Christmas revelers and their families as she looked for any sign of Eleanor. Decked-out booths selling warm food and holiday tchotchkes choked the Seattle waterfront while festive music from a live band wafted through the air. It would’ve been a nice place for her and Max to bring the kids—if Eleanor hadn’t shattered her family.
With her hood pulled over her head, Val scanned the crowd and fingered the gun nestled against her hip, hidden by her sweatshirt. She would never fire into a crowd, but Eleanor had no reservations about killing innocent bystanders. Jesus, what if Eleanor planted a bomb at the Christmas festival? Was that how she saw herself killing Val? That evil bitch was capable of anything. She had to get Eleanor away from all these people.
Pushing forward, she kept her head down but shoulders square, trying not to look too suspicious. The last thing she needed was security harassing her. She cut through the crowd, heading toward a crop of less crowded buildings to her left.
Then she saw the flash of yellow—Eleanor. About fifty feet away, one corner of her blood-red lips crooked up, then she turned away and disappeared into the throng of people all around her. Val knew Eleanor was almost certainly leading her into a trap again, but goddammit, she would not let that woman escape again.
She snaked through the crowd toward the last spot she’d seen Eleanor. When she reached it, she stopped among the mass of people and spun in a circle, searching. Where was Eleanor? She’d been in that exact location only a few seconds ago—
Searing pain shot through Val’s left forearm. She cried out and touched the spot that suddenly hurt, and saw blood on her gloves. Someone had cut her—Eleanor had cut her, in full view of everyone, and yet the woman had been stealthy enough that no one saw.
“You okay?” a man next to her asked, reacting to her cry of pain.
Val ignored him and whirled around, desperately searching for her attacker. Where was she? Where was she—
Thirty feet away, next to a booth of Christmas wreaths, a shock of yellow hair stood out among the crowd, moving away from her, then disappearing again. Val bound for the booth, trying to keep her eye on the yellow while ping-ponging through the thick crowd. Finally, she reached the spot she’d last seen Eleanor, and…nothing.
“Goddammit!” Val said, breathing hard and swiveling her head in every direction. “What the hell—ah!”
She grabbed her right forearm as more pain bloomed there. Another slice to her flesh, with Eleanor still nowhere to be seen. How was she doing this?
Passersby shot alarmed looks her way as she freaked out for what appeared to be no reason. Then she heard a chuckle. Where, where, where—
There! Eleanor glanced over her shoulder as she hurried away with a smirk on her face. Val rushed after her, grimacing at the pain in both arms, but undeterred. In the center of a crowd next to a group of carolers, something sliced open her left calf. She pitched forward into another woman before hitting the ground.
“Oh my!” the woman said as she helped Val stand. “Are you all right, young lady?”
Val struggled to her feet, hopping on her good leg while a blood stain grew on the back of the other.
The woman propped Val up and cringed at the wound while curious rubberneckers looked on. “Looks like you cut yourself. If you want to sit down on that bench over there, I’ll go get help—”
“No!” Val pushed the woman away, ignoring the Good Samaritan’s insulted hmmph. She had to get out of there, away from these people Eleanor was using as human shields. Forcing herself to put weight on her bad leg, she limped toward the less populated buildings she saw earlier, somewhere Eleanor couldn’t hide in the crowd.
In a dark alleyway, she pulled out her gun and slumped against the wall. Already she could barely stand, and she hadn’t even come face-to-face with Eleanor yet. With a shaking hand, she touched the switchblade in her pocket, ensuring it hadn’t fallen out after her tumble to the ground. She wasn’t good with a knife, but at least she’d still have some kind of weapon if she lost control of her gun. Now Eleanor…that bitch was good with a knife. Shit.
Val pushed herself off the wall and trudged down the alley. Ahead of her, a dark figure appeared, silhouetted against the festive lights of the street beyond. The dark figure pulled a black winter cap from its head, and yellow hair tumbled out.
Shoot her now!
Val pointed her gun at Eleanor the same time the psychopath cut left and into an open door, retreating into the building.
“Fuck.” Eleanor was definitely leading her into a trap, acting out her death as the “agent of God” had seen it in a vision. But what could she do? Run away and let Eleanor kill more people trying to get at Val and her family? Hell no. She’d face her fate—then change it.
Gun at the ready, Val followed Eleanor through the door and into the dark stairwell of what looked like an apartment building. Footsteps above her told Val that Eleanor was heading up. She climbed the stairs in pursuit, as fast as she could but still slower than normal due to the leg wound. Up they went, up and up and up, until she heard the heavy door to the roof open and slam shut.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she shoved the door open while keeping her gun pointed straight in front of her, ready to shoot the first thing that moved. Darkness permeated the roof, lights from the Christmas festival below casting an eerie glow around the edge. With small, deliberate steps, she inched away from the door, scanning the area where a half-dozen ventilation outlets and skylight outcroppings provided ample hiding spots. She remembered her Army training—move to the periphery, then circle the area while moving inward to flush out the enemy. On high alert, Val took quick steps to the roof’s edge.
“Bang!” she heard Eleanor say.
Val wheeled to her left, the direction of Eleanor’s voice. She saw nothing…No, on the ground ten feet away, a square, palm-sized glow—a cell phone. To project a voice recording.
That’s when she heard swift footfalls right behind her.
Shit.
Val turned just in time to swing her arms down and block the knife Eleanor drove straight at her gut. Literally face-to-face, Val tried to shove Eleanor away so she could get a shot off. Before Val could get any distance between them, Eleanor used her own arm to lock Val’s handgun-holding right arm in place while her other hand swung the knife at Val’s neck. Val grabbed Eleanor’s wrist and held off the blade, inches from her skin. For a few agonizing seconds that felt like an eternity, they stayed locked in a deadly stalemate, Val gritting her teeth with the desperate effort to stay alive while Eleanor sneered in demented delight.
Then in one sharp jerk, Eleanor popped Val’s right shoulder out of its socket. Val shrieked as pain tore through her arm. Still she held on to Eleanor’s wrist with everything she had as the blade crept closer, knowing if she let go, she’d die. Her strength quickly waning, tendrils of panic began to seize her. She had to do something. Anything.
With a scream, Val reared her head back and slammed it into Eleanor’s nose. Eleanor stumbled backward as blood spurted down her crimson lips. Val tried to lift her gun to shoot, but of course, her goddamn arm wouldn’t come up all the way now. As she wasted a precious second switching hands, Eleanor lunged at her with the knife. In a desperate swing with her left arm, she managed to barely block the blade from sinking into her gut again, but the force of the impact knocked her gun from her hand. It skidded away as together they slammed into a cement ventilation outlet next to the roof’s edge.
Struggling to breathe, Val groped for the switchblade in her pocket as she kneed Eleanor in the stomach, but it wasn’t enough. Eleanor had the upper hand, and she used it. Ignoring Val’s frantic thrashing, she stabbed Val in the chest.
Val screamed as the blade sank into her flesh, just below her right collarbone. Every nerve in her body caught on fire.
Eleanor smiled. “This is how you die.”
No.Val pawed at the knife and felt Eleanor’s hand still on the handle.
“Just like this. There’s no one here to help you this time. And after I kill your children, the world will be set right again. Mother and Father will be happy.”
No! Through the pain, anger exploded, hot and bright. “Over my dead body will you touch my children!”
In one burst of energy, Val yanked Eleanor’s hand off the handle, pulled the knife out of her own chest, and plunged it into Eleanor’s—straight into the heart.
Eleanor sucked in a single, startled gasp. Her bloody mouth hung open, her eyes bulging as she stared at Val in disbelief.
“That’s for Max,” Val hissed in Eleanor’s face. “And now it’s your turn to die!”
Eleanor’s lips moved as if she struggled to speak, to deny that her God could have forsaken her after everything she’d done for Him. Her weak hands grasped Val’s coat lapels, and Val thought for a moment she wanted to fight again despite not having a working heart. Instead, she stared deep into Val’s eyes as if desperately searching for something familiar—and finding it.
“Mother,” Eleanor rasped.
Mother. Eleanor looked into Val’s eyes and saw the woman she knew as Mother.
I have Mother’s eyes.
With a single word, Val’s world crushed to nothing, and everything she thought she knew turned to shit.
Before Val could stop her, Eleanor fell backward and off the roof. She landed with a disgusting crunch on the pavement below, across the street from the Christmas festival. A woman shrieked. Heads craned up, looking in Val’s direction. Fingers pointed at her. She stumbled away from the edge, out of their line of sight as the pain from wounds all over her body shot through her, only numbed by the panic coursing through her veins.
She had to go home. Now.