Free Storm of Visions by Christina Dodd Page A

model, and they were alike.
    Taking Jacqueline in her embrace, Zusane pressed her cheek to Jacqueline’s. “All right, darling, I’ve got an important assignation that is more imperative than ever. So I’m off.” She blew kisses at the Chosen.
    Caleb directed the bodyguards into place.
    Aggravated and embarrassed, Jacqueline stood stiff and cold.
    Seeing her expression, Zusane stopped her diva imitation and pleaded, “Don’t be that way, darling.”
    Jacqueline began, “If you would only stay—”
    Zusane pulled a pocket watch from between her breasts and studied it. “I’m going to be late. I can’t be late. Now . . . you be good and make me proud.” She hugged Jacqueline again, stepped into the circle of bodyguards, and started toward the subway stairs. “I know you’ll be a wonderful seer for the Gypsy Travel Agency—”
    “You said it was blown up,” Jacqueline answered.
    Zusane stopped short.
    Martha straightened, whisk broom in hand.
    Zusane turned to face the small group of seven huddled in what remained of the circle. “Yes, but the Chosen Ones are not vanquished!” She sounded incredulous.
    The Chosen Ones stared as if she were speaking her native language.
    Zusane blew her breath out and up, trying to cool her forehead. “Darlings. Charisma is right. The building is gone. The experienced fighters are gone. But you are the Chosen Ones. By stepping into the circle, you accepted your fate, and that is to vanquish evil. As long as you are alive, the Chosen Ones live.”
    Samuel spoke for all of them. “I signed a contract with the board of directors of the Gypsy Travel Agency. If that contract has been blown up, what binds me to my agreement?”
    For the first time in her life, Jacqueline saw Zusane throw off her frivolous persona and become what she could always have been—a noble, clear-sighted creature. “I don’t know, Mr. Faa. You’re a lawyer. What does bind you to your agreement with the Gypsy Travel Agency?”
    No one answered. They looked at each other, then at Zusane, and even Mr. Faa looked embarrassed at her forthright question.
    “Yes,” she said. “Whether or not the paper is burned, you put your signature there with full knowledge of what it meant. You gave your word. Does it stand for less—or more—because the contract is gone forever?”
    The seven of them squirmed like kids caught lying.
    “We’re stuck with each other,” Aleksandr said.
    “Aleksandr, darling, you are so smart. I don’t know how, but someday, what an asset you’ll be!” Zusane blew another air kiss toward Jacqueline, and with a jaunty wave of her hand, she again started toward the exit.
    Caleb urged her bodyguards to run, to keep their pistols close at hand.
    Zusane might have already airily dismissed the explosion at the Gypsy Travel Agency, but Caleb had not. He shot Jacqueline a grim look, then hurried toward Zusane. He stopped her, spoke quietly and urgently.
    She took him by the hand and, in a voice that projected clearly across the distance, said, “No, darling, you stay. I depend on you to protect Jacqueline.”
    Jacqueline thought he would object.
    But he stood still, leaned down so Zusane could kiss him on both cheeks, then watched her walk away.

Chapter 9

    C aleb took a moment to observe the expressions that hurried across Jacqueline’s face: surprise, suspicion, horror, and possibly . . . pleasure. Hopefully, plea sure. But fear drove him like a prod. “Hurry, Martha. Finish your duty. We’ve got to get away from here.”
    He felt like a shepherd defending his helpless sheep against some unknown peril.
    The fledgling Chosen looked at him with varying reactions. One by one he checked them off in his mind: The thief, Aaron Eagle. The lawyer, Samuel Faa. The lady, Isabelle Mason. The boy, Aleksandr Wilder. The boy-psychic, Tyler Settles. Charisma Fangorn, the girl with the tattoos and the crystals. And Jacqueline, the unwilling seer.
    He knew them all; he’d been present when Zusane