Kelly Mendig - Three Days to Dead

“You can go soon, I promise, but I need you to help me first. Just answer a few questions, okay?”

His chin trembled. Tears filled his eyes and spilled down both cheeks in twin streams. He pursed his lips and shook his head. “They’re everywhere, Chal. Make them go away. Make it stop.”

My heart went out to him. I wanted to end his suffering. I just couldn’t. He knew something, and big or little, I had to know what it was. When I didn’t reply, he started to cry in earnest. I’d never seen that sort of utter terror in the face of a grown man. Strike that—I’d seen it once before, as I lay dying the first time.

A sharp knock on the door stole my attention. I opened it a crack, revealing half of Wyatt’s face.

“You want to put a pause on that for a minute?” he asked, “The package is here.”

“What package?”

“The one I asked the gremlins to assemble before they wiped out all hard traces of Chalice Frost.”

I perked up. That was certainly worth a short recess. I slipped through the door, back into the living room, and pulled it shut behind me. In his hands, Wyatt clutched a bulging legal folder, held together by two large rubber bands. “Why did they bring it here?” I asked.

“It’s where I told them to bring it,” he said, as though it was the most obvious question in the world.

“Duh, genius, but why here?”

Wyatt had the good sense to adopt a hint of chagrin. “I thought I’d still have Rufus in custody when we swung by to collect it.”

Across the room Rufus grunted. Nadia had disappeared somewhere—a blessing I wasn’t about to ponder. She gave me the willies. I snatched the bundled folder from Wyatt and ripped off the rubber bands. Dozens of newspaper clippings tumbled to the floor and scattered, along with photographs and a few slips of printed paper.

I dropped the remaining contents of the folder on the dining table, freeing my hands to collect the information.

“A little eager?” Wyatt asked.

My mature response was to stick my tongue out at him. I snagged a column dated twenty-seven years ago. The headline stopped me short: “Woman Gives Birth in Mall.” I scanned the article and sucked in a breath.

“What is it, Evy?”

“ ‘Six people trapped in the women’s restroom at Capital City Mall soon became seven,’ ” I read, “ ‘when one woman unexpectedly went into labor. Part of the ceiling outside the restroom collapsed, authorities say, making it impossible for the women to exit for several hours. During that time, Lori Frost, eight months pregnant, went into preterm labor. Charlene Williams, an off-duty trauma nurse, helped Frost deliver the baby without complications. Upon rescue, both mother and daughter were rushed to St. Eustachius Hospital, where they are listed in good condition.

“ ‘The Frosts were not available for comment, but Ms. Williams described the experience as “the easiest birth of my life. Though that’s not saying much, since I work in the Emergency Room.” ’ ”

I looked up, mouth agape. “That’s the same place Isleen took me to for that memory ritual. I was born … Chalice, I mean, she was born on a magical hot spot. Holy shit, Wyatt.”

He plucked the article and read it for himself. His eyes grew wider with each sentence, letting the full meaning settle into his brain. Hot spots existed all over the city. Many were so faint they couldn’t be detected. A few, like the vampire Sanctuary, were unmistakable and made their presence felt. It wasn’t the coincidence of the location that scared me—it was the implication that Chalice had been born above a hot spot, just like Wyatt and the handful of other human beings considered Gifted. It meant she (and in turn, I) was Gifted.

“Is that possible?” Rufus asked.

“Not only possible, but it solves the last mystery,” I said. “It’s why I came back in Chalice’s body, instead of where I was supposed to. My resurrection was made possible by Tovin’s connection to the Break, so I was attracted to a body that also had that connection.”

“Do you have the birthmark?” Wyatt asked.

“How the hell should I know?”

“You’ve been in that body for two days.”

I stood up and tossed the rest of the gathered clippings onto the table, annoyed by his silly argument. “Sorry I haven’t penciled in time to stare at my own ass, Wyatt.”

“Drop your pants.”

“Now’s not really the time….”

“Evy.”

Okay, wrong time to joke. He was dead serious. Giving little thought to my audience across the room, I tugged the button and unzipped the fly, then pushed the dirty jeans down to my ankles. I bent at the waist and placed my palms flat on the table. The pose was both submissive and suggestive, but I felt no thrill—only slight apprehension of what he might find.

Wyatt hooked a finger into the waistband of my panties and pulled them down. Cool air caressed my exposed skin. I shivered. Halfway down, he stopped. Pulled back. I yanked my pants up, my suspicions con-firmed by his silence.

“I can’t believe we never guessed it before,” he said after a moment’s pause.

“We still don’t know what I can do,” I said, “or if I can even access Chalice’s Gift.”

“You said you felt the power of the Break when we were down with the Fair Ones, right?”

“Yeah, and I’ve felt it ever since my rebirth, but I just thought it was a side effect. It never occurred to me it was something more.”

“You’re already tapped into the Break, Evy. Now we just need to find out what you can do with the tap. Knowing the well is down there doesn’t help if you don’t have a shovel to dig to it.”

“But how are we supposed to do that?”

He held up a handful of Chalice’s file. “Keep looking. There has to be something here.”

We sifted for several minutes, through school records and doctors’ notes and copies of report cards. I found more newspaper clippings. “Toddler Missing; Found in Toy Store” caught my eye.

“Listen to this,” I said, skimming the article for salient details. “When she was three years old, Chalice disappeared from a sandbox where three other kids were playing. No one reported seeing her get up on her own, or anyone take her. She was discovered a few hours later by police, in the stuffed animal section of a local toy store ten blocks from the park. The owner didn’t see her come in with anyone, and security cameras showed no front door entry.” I scanned the rest. “It was a shop that the mother frequented. She said Chalice loved the big stuffed lions and tigers.”

“There are more like that,” Wyatt said. He held up something with a Child Welfare stamp on it. “She also disappeared from her preschool classroom six times over a four-month time period. Same as before, with no one seeing her get up and leave, and no one taking her. She was always found outside on the playground, away from the other kids.”

Our eyes met over our individual sheets of paper. He was thinking the same as me, but I hesitated to say it. It seemed impossible, given what we knew of the Gifted and their limitations. But not so impossible when you factor in a return from the dead.

“Is it even possible?” I asked.

“Teleportation?”

“Yeah.”

“Theoretically, yes. Practically, I have no idea.”

“How do we test something like this?”

“Concentration?”

I balled up the article and threw it at his head. It bounced harmlessly to the floor. He didn’t react, seeming lost in thought. I stared at the pile of records, hoping to make sense of everything now swirling dangerously through my head. I pulled out a slim folder sporting the seal of a public school district more than a hundred miles away. High school records.