A young woman, no older than twenty and lying on a mound of pillows, opened one eye. “Tori?” she mumbled out, and Tori rushed to kneel at her side.
“Yes, it’s me, sweetie. I’m here.” She placed a hand on the girl’s forehead and then lifted each eyelid and checked both eyes.
Brianna slid inside, baby in her arms, while Carla pulled Thomas to sit on the only couch in the room.
As she rose, Tori’s eyes glistened with tears. “She’s high.”
Brianna reached for her. “I’m so sorry.”
“I can’t leave her here.”
A moan drew Thomas's attention to a cot against the far wall where a young man lay curled up in a ball, VR headset on. On the table beside the bed, pills lay scattered beside a half-empty bottle of what looked like vodka.
His heart leapt. His throat squeezed. His eyes refused to leave the precious elixir. Carla had finally released his hand and moved to cling to her mother.
“I need to sober her up,” Tori was saying…and something else Thomas couldn’t hear. Nor did he care. He licked his lips and started to rise.
Yet before he could take a step toward the bottle, a swath of brilliant light flashed before his eyes and landed on Tori, still talking with Brianna. Her gaze snapped to Thomas, then wandered to the bottle as if someone or something had told her his intentions.
Excusing herself, she pushed past him, grabbed the bottle and moved to a small kitchenette built into the wall beside the door.
Thomas headed for her. “No! Please! Just one sip—” But she had already poured the alcohol down the sink.
“I’m making coffee.” She started opening cupboards, but Thomas no longer cared.
“How could you do that to me?” Anger churned in his empty belly. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging it until it hurt. He wouldn’t even be in this situation if not for her. “I just wanted a sip.”
“There is never just one sip.” She poured coffee grains into the filter, added water, and turned the archaic machine on.
He stood, staring at her, furious, tired, and feeling worse than he ever had. This woman had caused him more pain in his life than he cared to admit. What the heck was he doing? He should be in his five-million-dollar mansion, back at work where he was in charge and respected. “You don’t know what it feels like.”
At this, she spun, pointing at him with a can of soup. “I don’t? I’ve been to more rehab centers than you’ve owned homes. I’ve gone through detox more times than I can count—not only for alcohol but for a long list of other drugs.” Her eyes burned emerald. “So don’t tell me I don’t know how you feel.”
A sour taste rose in his throat, and he swallowed. He hadn’t known any of that.
Her expression softened. “Listen, I know you don’t feel well. Just go sit down. I’m getting you something to eat, and then I have to get Sara alert enough to move.”
Kindness and concern filled both her tone and her gaze, surprising him and prompting him to do as she asked. Back on the couch, little Carla eased beside him and leaned her head against his arm. He didn’t know what to do. Children usually hated him. She snuggled closer, nestling into his underarm, prompting him to hug her. Despite his own horrid stink and their noxious surroundings, she smelled of sunshine and wildflowers and innocence, and it filled him with a momentary sense of goodness he hadn’t felt in some time.
“I’m glad Onafiel stopped you.” She began humming again.
Thomas had no idea what the crazy kid was mumbling about. Still nursing his rage, he sat moping and watching Tori and Brianna try to get Sara to sit up and drink some coffee. Whatever the poor girl had taken, she was in much worse shape than him, and he doubted they’d resurrect her any time soon. She’d take a sip, mumble something, then fall back down again. He should help. With his strength, he’d be able to lift her up and get her to walk, but his head felt like it would explode, and his body shook like a leaf in the wind. If only Tori hadn’t dumped out that bottle.
By now Carla had fallen asleep leaning against him. At least he didn’t have to hold the baby. Brianna seemed to manage just fine with the child strapped to her chest.
Finally, they both took a break, and Tori brought him a mug of soup, smiling at Carla. “Seems you’ve made a friend.”
The soup smelled better than a steak dinner atChez Paul’s. He grabbed it with his free hand. “Don’t know why. Been kinda a grouch lately.”
Tori arched a brow. “You? Noooo.” Then turning, she went to help Brianna, who was attempting to give Sara another sip of coffee.
Jerusalem. The word coming from the reporter on the TV drew Thomas's attention, along with Tori and Brianna’s.
“Thousands of Israelis are fleeing Jerusalem, some in cars, others in trains, and many on foot,” the man was saying, pressing the communication device in his ear. “All because of Lord Immu Aali’s command to be worshiped. His Excellency Gabriel Wolfe has created an enormous hologram in the likeness of Lord Aali, projected it before the Temple, and ordered all who pass by to bow in worship.”
The scene switched to a woman reporter standing before the object in question. “Yes, and I hear he plans to place the same hologram in every major city on earth.”
Wow. The hologram looked more lifelike than anything Thomas had seen. It moved, spoke and even smiled. If it weren’t so tall, Thomas might think it was the Premier himself—orLordas he wanted to be called now. Amazing.
