Ominous (Private 13)

“Josh? Josh? Josh?”

His face changed. The color drained and his eyes were like pinpricks.

“Get her down,” he growled.

Something slipped from my ankles and my feet were free. A second later my hands were too. I fell into Josh, launched into him, nearly flattened him. I was shaking so hard my head bumped his chin over and over and over again.

“Josh. Josh. Josh. Josh. Josh.”

“It’s okay,” he whispered into my hair, kissing my head, holding me as tightly as he could. “It’s okay. I found you. I found you and everything’s going to be okay.”

The weird thing was, it was almost exactly how I had imagined it a few minutes earlier. Exactly how I’d wished it to be.

“Drink this.”

I sat on a chair someone had found in a corner of the basement, a coarse NYPD-issue blanket over my shoulders. Josh crouched in front of me, holding out a paper cup full of water.

“I’m an idiot,” I said.

Josh blew out a sigh. “Well. I’m glad to hear you say anything other than my name, but I can’t agree with that.”

I swallowed hard. My mouth was full of dust and dirt and blood. I lifted the cup to my lips, shaking so hard some of the water spilled over onto my lap. I sipped just a little, and a trickle of clean coolness slithered down my throat. I stared down at the ring he’d given me. A spot of blood had dried over several of the diamonds.

“How can you love me?” I asked, my voice cracking. “All I do is bring you misery and … and head wounds. How can you even be with me?”

A single tear slid down my cheek and got caught in the crusted blood, where it stopped and started to itch. Josh laughed quietly. He lifted his hand to cup my cheek, drawing his finger over the spot, driving the itch away.

“How could I not be with you?” he asked.

I sniffled. “But I—”

“Reed, none of this is your fault,” he said. “I know you don’t believe that right now, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life doing everything I can to convince you. You’re not cursed. You’re not unlucky. You’re perfect.”

He hugged me and I leaned into him, pressing my nose into his chest. Over his shoulder, I could see the police rounding up the suspects—the believers. I was surprised that Paige Ryan wasn’t among them, and happy to see that I didn’t recognize anyone else, except dimly from the society pages. I had feared that Susan Llewelyn, once one of my favorite alums, would be part of this, but thankfully, she wasn’t there either.

“Can I ask you something?” Josh asked, whispering in my ear.

I nodded into his jacket.

“Did you try to … send me a message?” he asked.

I drew back, my heart thumping extra hard. “What do you mean? Why?”

Josh swallowed hard, looking freaked. “I was with the police and Mr. Lange, Ivy, and Noelle, and all of a sudden I got this … I don’t know … this picture in my mind. Of a crate of Asti Movanti.”

We both looked toward the door, where dozens of Movanti crates were stacked.

“You … you did?” I asked.

He nodded. “I just sort of blurted it out and Mr. Lange said it was the name of this wine … some failed venture of Mrs. Cox’s. She bought controlling stock in this Italian company or something and the wine turned out to be swill. I don’t know. But anyway, as soon as I said it, Ivy told them we had to check out the Coxes’ house. Because they live right next door to the Langes, and Mrs. Cox … she’s a Billings alum and—”

He paused and took a breath. “That’s her,” he said quietly. “Over there. With the white hair.”

I glanced up to find a frail-looking woman with a short white coif being inched away in handcuffs.

“Did you lead me here?” he asked.

“You are the strongest of us all, Reed. You’re the only one who can save them.” Eliza’s words sent a shiver right through me. “Use your power to warn them.”