Radclyffe - Sheltering Dunes

“…by the Coming of the Holy Spirit…”

“We need more help.”

“That it may please you to deliver the soul of your servant…”

Reese said, “Bri’s bringing Tory.”

“…mercifully to pardon all her sins.”

“We need her STAT,” Dave shouted.

“Our Father, who art…”

“One…two…three…”

“…forgive us our trespasses…”

“Dave? Where are we?” Tory’s voice.

“…as we forgive those who trespass against us…”

“She’s bleeding out.”

“…lead us not into temptation…”

“We need blood.”

“…deliver us from evil…”

“I’m O-neg. Take mine.”

“…for Thine is the Kingdom, and the Power…”

“I’ve never done a battlefield transfusion.”

“…and the Glory, forever and ever…”

“I have.”

“Amen.” Flynn closed her eyes and held Mica’s hand to her lips. Please, baby. Please don’t leave me.

Chapter Thirty-two

The chapel held four wooden pews on either side of a narrow central aisle. A plain wooden cross hung on the wall behind the unadorned altar. The beige walls were muted in the dim glow of the recessed lights in the arched ceiling.

Flynn knelt alone at the rail. Her solitude enclosed her so deeply, she was only distantly aware of the passage of time. She didn’t turn when she sensed a presence beside her.

“It’s Allie. I’ll go if you want.”

“No.” Flynn crossed herself and rose slowly. Her body seemed foreign, a hollow shell that belonged to someone else. She sat in the first pew. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” Allie said, sitting next to Flynn, “but I wasn’t sure if you should be alone.”

Flynn smiled softly, wondering if she would ever not be alone again. “I’m glad you came. I didn’t have a chance to thank you.”

Allie’s eyes welled with tears. “God, Flynn, don’t. If I could have done more…”

“You gave her your blood. That’s a tremendous gift.”

“I wish Tory had let me give another—”

Flynn took Allie’s hand. “You gave enough. Thank you.”

“Are you all right?” Allie laughed shakily. “Stupid question. Of course you aren’t. Did you eat?”

“No. I’m not hungry.” Flynn looked around for a window. “Is it morning?”

“Not yet. Can I do anything? I feel so useless.”

“Did you get him? Everything happened so fast and then…I never thought about him.”

“We got him.”

“Is he alive?” She probably ought to be jubilant at the news, but she was too cold and numb to feel anything at all.

“He didn’t put up much of a fight once he saw he was outgunned. We apprehended him right outside Mica’s building.” Allie sounded almost apologetic.

“Just a minute too late.”

“Yes,” Allie said. “I’m so sorry.”

Flynn squeezed Allie’s hand. “I didn’t mean it that way. You’re not responsible. He is—do you know his name?”

“Carmen Alvarez. According to Dell, he’s one of La Mara’s top lieutenants and Hector’s right hand. Hector is—”

“I know who he is. He’s the man Mica was with.”

“No,” Allie said. “He’s the man Mia Gonzales was with. Mica has only ever been with you.”

“You’re right. I…she—” Flynn’s throat tightened and her eyes burned. She hadn’t thought there were any tears left. “Sorry. I…sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Allie slid her arm around Flynn’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Sometimes tears are all we have.”

*

“I thought you might want some coffee,” Dell said, handing Flynn a paper cup from the vending machine.

“Thanks.” Steam rose from the surface of the muddy-looking liquid, but Flynn’s fingers were cold.

Dell dropped into one of the nearby plastic chairs. “I let you down. I let Mia—sorry, Mica down. I know sorry doesn’t help, but I am.”

“He was coming, him or someone else, whether you were here or not.” Flynn put the coffee aside. “I’d like you to do something for me.”

“Anything, if I can do it, it’s yours.”

“Make this worth it. Make him tell you the things you need to know to put an end to this, so there is never another Mica.”

“My lieutenant’s making arrangements with the sheriff for transport right now. With what we have on him, he’s not getting out and he knows it. He’ll talk to save his own skin.”

“That’s enough, then.”

“No, it isn’t. You asked me if I could keep her safe.” Dell’s voice was rough with sleeplessness and remorse. “I told you I could, and I let him get by us. I let him get to her.”

“You know,” Flynn said, replaying those moments for the hundredth, for the thousandth, time, “another thirty seconds—a minute, and you might have gotten him before he got to her.” Flynn kept wondering if she’d reached out, if she’d pulled Mica back down onto the bed, if she’d kept her from going into the other room—maybe she could have kept her safe. “I was there and I didn’t stop her from meeting him head-on. Mica never expected to be rescued. Not by you, not by me. She wouldn’t let anyone fight for her.”

“Brave of her,” Dell said.

“Yes, brave. And selfless.”

“Maybe if she’d waited, I would’ve got there in time,” Dell said, “but maybe he would’ve gotten both of you. She had to have been thinking about that.”

“Oh, I know she was.” Flynn studied her hands. She’d washed them, many times, but the blood was still just as visible to her as if it still covered them. Mica’s blood. “It’s hard, isn’t it, when the ones we love won’t let us protect them.”

“It’s hell,” Dell said.

*

Flynn’s eyes flew open at a touch on her shoulder. “Mica?”

“It’s Tory, Flynn.” Tory leaned down, her eyes liquid with tenderness. “It’s time.”

Flynn pushed to her feet, her body stiff and protesting. Her chest ached, her head throbbed with sleeplessness and pain. She followed Tory through the eerily silent halls, where only the drone of the machines broke the stillness. Outside the windows, the sky was black and starless. Shadows followed them as they walked.

“Is there anything I can do?” Tory asked.

Flynn shook her head. “I never had a chance to thank you for what you did.”

“I can’t take very much credit for it,” Tory said. “Allie took all the risk, and without Reese’s directions, I doubt I would have been able to do it. We all did it.”

“Mica told me once that she didn’t belong anywhere,” Flynn said. “She was wrong.”

Tory gently took Flynn’s hand. “Yes, she was.”

Chapter Thirty-three

The cubicle was dark, lit only by the glowing faces of the monitors and a single flat ceiling light set to low. The sheets were very, very white. Mica’s dark hair stood out against the covers like cinders on snow. Her eyes were closed, her arms extended, palms up by her sides. Tubes ran from her arms, from underneath the sheets, from the corner of her mouth. Not even the barest flicker of movement rippled beneath her alabaster lids. She wasn’t asleep, she wasn’t dreaming. Her body, her mind, perhaps her spirit, had drawn in on itself, a protective reflex as she gathered her strength for the ultimate battle.

“I can get you a chair,” the nurse said.

“No, thank you,” Flynn said. “I’ll be fine.”

“You can stay as long as you like.”

Flynn nodded and took Mica’s hand. Her fingers were cool, dry, motionless. Flynn knelt, and prayed for clarity.