Free Storm of Visions by Christina Dodd Page B

and the board of directors had argued about who held the right gifts for this cycle. He’d watched as they were interviewed, and more than once, Zusane had asked his opinion. Yet he didn’t know how the new Chosen would react to this kind of pressure; they were untested, and he didn’t have to be clairvoyant to know this was a disaster of untold proportions, or that he had to step carefully or he would lose them all.
    The men were aware of the danger, but jockeying for lead position. The boy stood morosely, hands in his pockets, waiting for someone to tell him what to do. The women were not worried about their places in the pecking order, for better than the men, they understood the ramifications of Zusane’s vision.
    Caleb spoke to the group, low and intense. “We need to stick together. For now, follow me”—he acknowledged the men and women, their intelligence and their wills—“and when we’re safe, we’ll sort out who’s in charge.”
    “Why should we follow you?” Faa fixed his dark eyes on Caleb. “For all we know, this could be a hoax. This could be a test for us. You could be in league with the devil.”
    Martha straightened. “Mr. D’Angelo is the longtime head of Miss Vargha’s bodyguards. He is a trustworthy gentleman.”
    “Thank you, Martha.” Caleb waited for Faa and the other men to make their judgment. Waited for Jacqueline to speak for him, too.
    From her expression, it was clear he could wait forever.
    “You gentlemen can do as you like. I’m going with Miss Vargha’s bodyguard.” Isabelle stepped forward to join Caleb.
    Charisma followed suit. “I’m good with that.”
    Aleksandr moved to join them.
    Faa and the other two nodded. The Chosen Ones were on board; all except Jacqueline, who stood staring toward the subway stairs.
    Caleb had conquered, for the moment. “Martha, hurry!” he said.
    Martha finished, tucked away her whisk broom, and joined Caleb. “Where to, sir?”
    “First we’ll go to Zusane’s apartment—that’s safe; then—”
    “Sir?” Martha indicated a figure stalking away from them.
    “Jacqueline!” Caleb leaped after her.
    At his voice, she broke into a run, up the stairs and into the street.
    He followed, and behind him he heard Martha calling to the Chosen Ones, “Keep up with them. Stay together and keep up!”
    It was early evening, but still light. The street was thronged with people from the neighborhood, Italians and Asians, mostly. Emergency vehicles, loud with sirens, inched through the traffic. Ahead of Caleb, Jacqueline dodged through the crowd, heading up two blocks to the street where the Gypsy Travel Agency was housed. She was thin, long-legged, fast, and determined, and he caught up with her as she turned the corner into the heart of the excitement.
    He grabbed her arms, wanting to stop her before she rushed past the police barriers.
    But she stopped on her own, held stock-still by horror.
    The cast-iron buildings stood like a row of teeth rising above the sidewalk—and right in the middle of the block, one of the teeth had been knocked out. The building was gone, nothing left but a black hole in the ground.
    More important and even more strange—none of the buildings around it had been touched. There was no debris on the street; the building seemed to have imploded. The fire still burned, contained within the vanished building.
    “Even the smoke is rising straight up into the sky like there’s a chimney holding it in place. . . .” Isabelle murmured incredulously.
    In a low voice, Charisma said, “The enchantments that protect the outer skin of the building are still in place.”
    “Oh.” Isabelle stood quiet and thoughtful. “Oh.”
    Only when the smoke had passed the barriers of where the building walls had once stood did the wind catch it and carry it away.
    The people who stood with them, the people off the streets, the police and firemen, were as stunned, speaking in whispers. “Weird.” “How is that possible?”