Mark leaned back into the sofa, stifling a groan. His back had stiffened already. 'I don't know. Could be she's embarrassed that she ever became involved with them.'
'I suppose.'
They fell silent for several minutes, and Mark almost dozed off when Lily broke the silence. 'Hey, how did it go with the little boy today? I'm assuming you were there in time?'
Rubbing his eyes, he nodded. 'Yeah. Just barely. The little guy landed like a sack of potatoes right in my arms.'
'So he was okay?'
'Oh, sure. Shaken up a bit, but fine.' Mark touched the back of his head, feeling a raised swelling where he'd thumped against the pavement. It was tender, but the ibuprofen he'd taken earlier had helped with the headache.
Her eyes narrowed as she watched him. 'And you? Did you get hurt?'
Mark shot her a look. 'Not really. Just a little sore. But…the parents recognized me from the Tribune article.'
'Yikes. What did they say?'
'Actually, they were surprisingly calm about it all. The dad heard me call the little boy's name before the kid fell, and questioned how I knew his son's name.' Mark paused, feeling a lump rise in his throat as he remembered his near breakdown. 'I…ah…' He swallowed the catch in his voice. 'I finally said I just knew.' Mark tried to chuckle but the sound, when it finally squeezed past the lump, was harsh. 'Pretty quick thinking on my part, don't ya think?'
Lily sat forward and put her hand on his knee, giving it a slight squeeze. 'Mark, are you all right?'
Leaning into the corner of the sofa, he stretched his arms over the rear and side and let his head fall back against the top. He didn't answer for a long time. When he finally did, his confusion and anger escaped. 'Why is this happening, Lily? What's the point? I have this camera that has some spooky power from…God only knows where… and I try to do my best, but it seems like every time I turn around, some one is…is throwing marbles in my path.'
'I don't know why that reporter decided to write an article. She was probably just looking for a story and your name popped up.' She shook his leg. 'Listen to me, Mark. I know everything happens for a reason. God doesn't do things on a whim, without a plan. He just doesn't. There's a purpose for all of this.'
Mark rolled his head to look at his friend; amazed to hear Thomas's dad's words coming from Lily. He narrowed his eyes. 'Did Scott Palmer call you today or something?'
Lily straightened and pulled her hand away, her expression confused. 'Who?'
Shaking his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Thomas's dad. The kid I caught today. His dad's name is Scott Palmer, and he said the very same thing to me over lunch. He said I should listen to you.'
Her shoulders went back, and she beamed. 'I've never spoken to him, but I can tell he's a very wise man.'
He laughed. 'Of course he is.'
Lily chuckled, but then turned serious. 'Have you ever tried asking God what his plan is for you?'
Mark squirmed on the couch, then sat forward. With a drawn out sigh, he rubbed his hand over his face before resting his forearms across his knees. 'How am I supposed to do that, huh? It's not like I can just call him on the phone or…or send him an email. I can ask it in my head but…God's not there…he's…I don't know where the hell he is…'
He stood and stalked to the window, bracing his arms on either side of it. Maybe if he just looked really hard, he'd see God down there strolling the streets of Chicago.
Why couldn't he feel the same sense of certainty that Lily felt? She just seemed to know. He thought of the Tribune article that suggested that he, Mark Taylor, might be the second coming. His mouth twisted ruefully. Even thinking something like that made him feel uncomfortable. If only they knew. Not only was he a far, far cry from the second coming of Jesus, but, he wasn't sure he even believed in God.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kern motioned to the chair opposite his desk. 'Please, have a seat, Judy.'
The young woman scuttled from the door to the chair and sat with her hands clasped, head bowed. A large bruise marked her pale neck. Was she trembling?
He'd made sure to send the most nurturing member in the Guild, Claire, to pick Judy up from the hospital this morning. His instructions were to act as if it had been the plan all along for Judy to escape from the ceremony. Not only had he advised Claire to be comforting and supportive, but gave her money to buy a complete outfit for the poor girl.
'Have you recovered from your unfortunate ordeal the other night?' The concern he poured into his voice did the trick. Judy looked at him, her eyes brimming.
She nodded.
'Do you understand why the unpleasantness had to happen?'
Her gaze slid to the right, and she shrugged.
He leaned towards her. 'I understand you're confused. I'm sorry about that. You are a valuable member of this Guild, and I couldn't stand that you thought we wanted to hurt you. I was trying to capture that special quality you possess. Your innocence and absolute certainty of what is right and what is wrong. I still want to capture it.'
Her eyes flew back to his, fear making them wide.
Adrian reached across the desk and held his hand out, beckoning for Judy to take it. She hesitated, but put her hand in his and allowed him to clasp it gently. He stroked his thumb over her cool skin.
'I was testing you with the ritual, and you passed. Very few members are ever deemed worthy enough to be put through the initiation rites. Consider yourself truly special. You've made it into the inner sanctum of the Guild. From now on, you must be very careful because people on the outside will try to question you, make you doubt, but now I know that you can remain strong.'
Her face relaxed, her mouth turning up at the corners. He almost had her. The next part would be critical. 'I'm planning another ritual, only this time, it won't be an initiation. This time, we carry the sacred ritual through to the end.'
Her hand stiffened in his, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. 'Don't fear, Judy. You are the key to this working, but you are not the subject of the ritual.'
A muscle twitched in her neck, and her eyes remain glued to his face.
Adrian patted her hand with his other one, then released her. He unfolded yesterday's newspaper and spun it so she could read it, but she only seemed to glance at the photo. 'I don't know if you're aware that you hold the key for us. Here is our subject, and you are going to deliver him to us.'
'Mark Taylor?' It was the first words she'd spoken, and her voice wavered. 'I don't understand what you want me to do.'
'Claire told me she found Taylor's business card on your hospital table with today's date and a time written on it.'
Judy nodded. 'Yes, that's true. I was going to go over to his studio today and talk to his business partner about working there, but now that you want me back, I'll cancel it.'
This was better than Adrian had hoped. They had a legitimate way of getting inside. 'No, keep the appointment. I've done some research and found out that Taylor lives above the studio. I want you to keep your eyes open and find a way for us to get inside. If you get a chance to unlock a window, that would be great. I want to know the layout, alarms, anything so that we can get inside.'
'Why? And what do you want to do?'
Adrian bit back the anger that surged when she questioned him. He pasted on a smile. 'He's been chosen. You are the messenger that delivered him to me once. Now, you will deliver him again. It's your destiny.'
Her back straightened as she nodded. 'I'll do whatever it takes.'
